Dependence II: Lightseeker
by Penname wa Silver B
Summary: A shadow and a kobold? It's romance of the year, I tell ya! Finished.
1. Lost

(A/N: Sorry it took so long, but I felt I deserved a break between stories. I'm a lazy bum, I know. Anyway, here's the first chapter of the second installment in a two-part story. Bear with me...I went through five versions before I came up with this. Please remember to review after you read and tell me what you think.

Note: This story is a sequel to Dependence I: Heartsinger, another NwN fic I wrote, so you should probably read that if you haven't already.

Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights does not belong to me. Thank-you.)

* * *

Chapter One

"Waterdeep. One of the greatest cities in all of Faerun, it is home to a multitude of peaceful town-folk from all races and all walks of life. Beneath Waterdeep, however, lies a different realm. This is the deep dungeon known as Undermountain, built by the mad wizard Halaster. Here Halaster tests adventurers who trespass therein with the most dangerous of traps and the deadliest of creatures. All but the luckiest meet their deaths in its dark halls.

"Regardless of this presence beneath them, the people of Waterdeep felt safe enough, for while one may enter Undermountain, it is rare that anything actually comes out...until now. For there is another realm beneath even Undermountain, a place of shadows and evil known only as the Underdark. It is here that the sinister dark elves known as the drow rule next to other subterranean horrors unknown to most on the surface world above. And it is here that the drow now lead an army of these creatures into the streets of Waterdeep, besieging the city in a campaign of blood and terror.

"In their darkest hour, the Lords of Waterdeep have issued a call for a hero...someone who can face these dark elves and all their brethren in their own land. Someone who can defeat the hordes of the Underdark."

So read the pamphlets spread throughout the continent in hopes of garnering a hero's attention. And so they did. All sorts of heroes came to Waterdeep in response to the call from all corners of Faerun; there were village champions, who supposed the drow and their accomplices would be no more difficult to defeat than that dire boar they slew last year; there were old wizards, stretching their creaky joints and gathering their scrolls, assuming they'd be more competent than any youth; there were ornery rogues, reasoning that if they couldn't do anything to help fight, they could at least scrounge up some valuable loot in Undermountain. There were aspiring adventurers, looking for a thrill and glory to their name; there were wanted criminals, wanting themselves to clear the bounty on their heads; there were cast-out half-orcs, hoping people would appreciate them at last; and there were more, many more. But perhaps the most unlikely candidate of all is the focus of our story, a small green kobold by name of Deekin.

Though the author of the popular epic tale "Shadows of Undrentide", the kobold was far from cheerful, having lost someone very dear to him just under a year ago. Umbra haunted his dreams at night and occupied his thoughts during the day; when Deekin heard news of the attacks in Waterdeep, he decided they would be the perfect thing to write about, and might take his thoughts off Umbra. Besides, it had always been a dream of his to travel to the great metropolis that was Waterdeep. So he packed his belongings and set off with brightened spirits, arriving in the city two months later. He had high hopes for this place; Deekin had oft been chased out of the villages he visited, and was anticipating a visit to the city which was "home to a multitude of peaceful town-folk from all races and all walks of life". Surely, they would be more tolerant of his race...

* * *

At the time our tale begins, Deekin was being chased through the streets of Waterdeep by two guards and seventeen citizens wielding torches and pitchforks.

"Oy! Get o'er here, kobold!" a man shouted, tossing at Deekin a tomato as red and swollen as his own face and missing.

"I've got a chunk o' ham for ye, deary!" a ratty old woman screeched, stumbling over a curb and narrowly avoiding setting herself ablaze with her own torch.

"How dumb they thinks Deekin be?" Deekin cried incredulously, heart pounding frantically as he did his best to outrace the angry crowd. The mob followed him closely at first, then gradually fell back as the chase went on. The city people were far less used to running than Deekin, and after a half-hour the mob dissipated; seeing that the citizens had given up, the guards followed suit. Deekin breathed a deep sigh of relief and slowed his pace, but kept a wary eye. This wasn't the first time he'd been chased by an angry mob, and he doubted it would be the last--he'd only been in Waterdeep a day and had already been pursued on three seperate occasions. He frowned and sighed again, depressed by the racism all around him, and looked up at the sky.

The curtain of night had fallen, black and starless; the moon was alone tonight. The darkness cloaked the city entirely, reminding Deekin of the complete blackness that composed the Shadow Plane. Remembering this, of course, made him remember Umbra. He could picture her in his mind--shrouded in darkness, wandering the plane aimlessly, cold and alone...

Deekin shook his head and turned his mind to more immediate matters, though his heart still ached. It was nighttime now; he had been headed for the inn called the Yawning Portal, where the heroes were supposed to meet up, but had been sidetracked by too many mobs. Night was the worst time to be wandering the streets of Waterdeep these days, for the creatures of the Underdark are most at home where it is dark, so most of their attacks took place well after sunset. Because of this, Deekin didn't dare try to reach the Yawning Portal now. He'd best find another inn nearby, or at least a tavern, where he could wait until morning and set out again.

This was easier thought of than done. Three inn managers and four bartenders in a row shooed Deekin away, some with weapons in hand. Dejected, Deekin searched the streets with waning confidence and waxing imagination, glimpsing monsters in the shadows as he hurried along in pursuit of a place to stay. At last, he saw a weather-beaten wooden sign hanging from a pole that flapped in the wind and read "Strong Arms Inn". Deekin hesitated before running toward the door--he would probably be thrown out again, but it was worth a shot. Better than risking it alone out there on the streets, with who-knew-what skulking just beyond the veil of dark.

Deekin rapped his small, scaly knuckles on the inn's pockmarked, ligneous door once, when the door swung inward. A large green half-orc with a prominent scar on his cheek stood in the doorframe, looking down skeptically at the reptilian before him.

"You gots place for Deekin to stays, maybe?" Deekin blurted nervously to the towering figure. "They chases Deekin out of every other place." The half-orc quirked an overshot brow.

"A kobold wanting to stay at my inn?" he murmured to himself. "These _are_ strange times..." Then, to Deekin, he said apologetically, "I can't have kobolds staying at my inn. Bad for business, y'see?"

"Oh." Deekin's heart sank. "Deekin sees...Deekin goes now..." He started to turn away.

"Wait!" the half-orc interjected. "You can't stay in the inn, 'cause you'd scare my customers away. But listen, little fella...I know what it's like to have everyone against you. You can stay in the stable out back. How's that sound?"

"You lets Deekin stay in your stable?" Deekin cried, astonished.

"I keep it pretty clean, else people wouldn't keep their horses there," the half-orc responded. "You should be comfortable."

"Thank-you thank-you thank-you!" Deekin beamed. "You be so nice, half-orc man! Deekin writes abouts you in new epic tale, you sees!" Thrilled to have a a place to stay, Deekin darted around the back of the building to said stable.

"Epic tale?" the half-orc muttered, scratching his head as he closed the door behind him. "Don't suppose that was..." The half-orc glanced at the copy of "Shadows of Undrentide" he'd been reading prior to opening the door. "Naaahh..."

Around the building's back was a small stable. It was cheaply built, but a lot of hard work went into maintaining it. Deekin made a note of this in his notebook as he wandered inside. The air was pungent with the aroma of horse manure, but in a city as large as this one, bad smells were commonplace. Only two horses were stabled here, a lean brown stallion and a stout, dappled gray mare. Deekin petted the mare's felt snout gently; the mare snorted gently in his palm. The stallion whinnied and shied away from Deekin's hand, though.

Scanning the area, Deekin saw a small hayloft high up in the ceiling above the entrance. A skinny wooden ladder led up into it. Deekin gripped the ladder and began climbing up the rungs. Once at the top, he balanced on the highest rung and fell into the soft hay. Deekin smiled and nestled down in it, then peeked down at the horses and hoped they didn't mind him nesting in their food. Neither horse appeared to care, so he settled back down comfortably and opened his notebook to write about the day's events. He decided no one would probably care to read an epic tale about a kobold being chased by humans, and he didn't care to recount it, so he skipped that part. He then found it was really too dark to do much writing, and doodled pictures of the gray mare instead. When his eyelids began to feel heavy at last, he closed the book and tucked it his pack, which he removed from his back and set by his side. He hunkered down, and with a contented sigh closed his eyes.

Umbra waited for him in his dreams. It was always the same dream--Umbra, standing unmovingly against the sheer blackness of the Shadow Plane where he had left her. Deekin's heart ached, but he was voiceless and immobile, helpless to do anything to alert her of his presence.

But this dream was different. Umbra began to walk away. Instinctively, Deekin was compelled to follow, and somehow, he could. Umbra turned off down a corridor of shadow; Deekin ran after her, but when he entered the corridor, Umbra was nowhere to be seen. And yet, he could make out shapes in the darkness. He squinted to get a better view, and the shadows fell away, revealing that he was in what appeared to be an unfathomably immense cave. It was dark here, but the suffocating darkness of the Shadow Plane had gone, and he could now see what the obscure shapes were.

The first was a floating sphere. As it came into focus, it turned red, and one large eye opened on its surface. Beneath the eye opened a mouth rimmed with rows and rows of sharp teeth; the head was crowned by short, wriggling stalks, and atop each stalk was an eye. Simple but hideous, the malformed creature seemed to grin as its central eye pulsed with an ethereal light.

Against his will, his attention shifted to a tall, humanoid figure shrouded in black robes. Its back was turned to him. Deekin found himself creeping forward, though he didn't want to. The shrouded figure spun around in response to the movement, revealing a disgustingly swollen purple head with two milky white eyes, and a sucking mouth encircled by four long tentacles. Deekin stumbled backward in horror; the creature vanished into the shadows, and another took its place.

This creature appeared to be a woman with gray skin and flowing white hair. Her ears were long and sharp, her eyes red and piercing. A tiara of jagged black metal crowned her head, and she wore an outfit of the same black metal, which twisted around her body like snakes. In her hand she held a whip, and on her face she wore a smile as chilling as the creatures which had preceded her. She was not alone; behind her stood an impossibly large man--at least fifteen feet tall--whose skin was red as freshly spilt blood, his eyes coal-black as the hair tumbling across his shoulders and the immense horns protruding from his forehead. His crimson flesh rippled with muscles, and he wore no clothes--but didn't need to, for his lower half was that of a very sturdy goat. His long, arrow-tipped tail twitched angrily, and he looked as though he'd love nothing more than to rip the small woman before him into so many bloody shreds, but threads of magic twined across his body and held him in check.

The giant, horned man then noticed Deekin. His lip curled up in a sneer as he caught sight of the reptilian, and he spoke:

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, kobold."

Upon speaking those words, he and the woman disappeared, reclaimed by the darkness. Alone amid all the blackness, Deekin suddenly felt cold...very, very cold...

* * *

Deekin awoke with a shock, shivering until he realized the extreme cold had only been a part of his dream. Moonlight streamed out of a small, rounded window at the back of the loft, silvering the golden hay Deekin lie in. He sat up and put a hand to his head, thinking the dream over. It was an odd dream, to be sure, but he recognized the creatures in it. The round, floating creature--that was a beholder. The tentacle-faced thing was a mind flayer, also called an illithid. The gray-skinned woman with long ears was a drow, and her gigantic prisoner with the horns and red skin was obviously a devil. With the attacks from the Underdark occurring in the city, it was no wonder he had dreamt of the first three...but why a devil? What would have made him dream about a devil, and one held captive by a drow at that?

Deekin's stomach growled hungrily, breaking his train of thought. Deekin twisted around and looked out the loft's circular window. The moon still hung lonely in the sky, but the blackness of night was being pushed back by the pale blue of morning light. The city's buildings hid the ground-bound sun from sight now, but before long it would reign bright over the land. Deekin's stomach rumbled again; the kobold sighed relentingly and began climbing down the ladder. He wasn't going to be able to fall asleep again, anyway, he frowned, stroking the dappled mare's neck before leaving. The stallion snorted disdainfully as he left.

Deekin raised his head up as he left the stable and gazed at the light end of the sky. Hunger pangs broke this moment of beautific examining, prompting him to keep walking. As he walked, he examined the city around him. This area had suffered very few drow attacks, and it showed. The ground was paved with smooth cobblestones, the buildings tall and built of grainy bricks, with fountains and ponds, real and manmade, everywhere one turned. There were paupers in ragged clothes moping past, gaping enviously at those richer than them; people garbed in finery rode in comfortable carriages drawn by sleek horses; people neither rich nor poor gabbered with their neighbors as they strode along on foot. A stout dwarven man with a braided beard cast a suspicious eye at those around him as he swaggered along; a strong half-orc man grinned proudly as he yanked a grand gryphon along by golden reins attached to a leather bridle; a half-elven woman smiled and waved cheerfully at those she passed; a gnomic person hidden beneath layers of clothing scuttled by, burdened by a bulging backpack. All sorts of people and buildings stretching in every direction for miles and miles--it was truly amazing, thought Deekin. Wouldn't it be wonderful if his own race could co-exist with the others in such a city?

A male human stepped in Deekin's path, a jeering look on his face. Deekin tensed up and tried to walked past him, but the young man obstructed his path again.

"Wot's a kobold doin' in Waterdeep, eh?" he questioned.

"Deekin responding to call for heroes," Deekin answered honestly. The man laughed sharply at this.

"Ye think _yer_ a hero?" the young man mocked.

"No, Deekin be epic bard," Deekin explained calmly. "Deekin going to write story abouts great heroes who fights--" A punch from the man cut him off, though Deekin swiftly ducked the blow.

"Why you does tha--" Deekin started, then evaded another punch. The man wanted a fight, and something in Deekin urged him to give him one. _You explored a Netherese ruin and survived, _a voice reminded him. _You outwitted a power-crazed medusa, and you've only grown more powerful since then. You can certainly defeat this man._ And it was true; Deekin could, and he knew it. But he also knew that Waterdeep's citizens hated him the way it was, and attacking anyone--even in self-defense--would only make things worse. So he cotinued to avoid the punches, until the man gave up and stormed off. Deekin sighed and continued on his way as well, headed straight for the Yawning Portal; he didn't feel like eating now.

As Deekin wandered, evidence of drow attacks became more apparents. There were sooty patches and immense potholes in the ground, leftovers from powerful fire spells. Some homes were missing large chunks and looked ready to collapse on themselves, and others still had been entirely reduced to ash and rubble. The people in this part of the city walked with caution, jumping at the smallest disturbance, their eyes darting fearfully. Many bore nasty wounds, and some had lost body parts. The destruction only got worse as Deekin continued; the kobold leapt back when he saw a fresh drow corpse frowning at him from the pavement. He realized quickly that it was dead, but went around it and stepped carefully then on.

The Yawning Portal was hard to miss, in part because it was one of the few buildings in this area that wasn't in shambles. The large, elaborate metal sign that read "Yawning Portal" with "Heroes Welcome!" added in beneath it was a dead giveaway, as well. The newly risen sun shone brightly on its gray-shingled roof; Deekin hoped for the best and started to push the door open.

A large hand grabbed the door from the inside and yanked it open, forcing the knob out of Deekin's hand. The kobold near-stumbled, regained his balance, and looked up to see the doorway blockd by a massive half-orc with red-blonde hair and a beard and mustache to match, and peach skin. These were unusual colors to see in a half-orc, who were usually dark-haired and green-skinned; his most striking feauture, however, was his lack thereof--below his left elbow, he had no arm. Deekin realized he was gawking and turned his attention to the half-orc's face. The huge, one-handed half-orc stared at Deekin with a grimace.

"You no allowed in," the half-orc informed. "Heroes only."

"But Deekin be hero," Deekin insisted. "Deekin helps save world from evil, undead snake-lady's wrath!"

"You is a kobold," the half-orc stated, as though that proved his point.

"But Deekin is kobold who helps saves world," Deekin reminded him. Seeing that the half-orc wasn't going to budge, Deekin sighed, brought out his notebook and said, "Deekin writes epic tale abouts it, and he here to writes epic tale abouts Waterdeep and Undermountain and drow attacks. If you not lets Deekin in, you at least tells Deekin how you loses arm, maybe?" The half-orc frowned.

"Me no like to say. It bad story," he responded.

"You loses it in Undermountain?" Deekin wondered; the half-orc nodded.

"Me lost all me friends when me lose me arm," the half-orc told him morosely. "We was most liked group for go into Undermountain." He paused mournfully for a moment, remembering his lost friends. "We go real deep and make lots of gold, which me spend real fast. Then one day we meet girl."

"What girl be that?" Deekin prompted, writing this down.

"She pretty lady, tell us she help us find treasure if we fetch her cape. We think that good deal." The look on his face evidence that it wasn't. "So we go where she tell us, but it be trap. She is vampire and she work with slaads in dungeon. Them jump us and kill mage quick. Her get our cleric from behind and tear him throat out."

"Go on," Deekin encouraged sympathetically.

"I killed many slaads, but see me friends all die one by one." The half-orc looked close to tears. ""When sweet Orah, me thief, get caught by vampire and her back get broke, me go berserk. Me not remember what happen, but slaads and vampire be gone and me arm and shield too. Me find me way out and here me be."

"Why you opens door?" Deekin asked.

"Durnan feel sorry for Grayban," replied the half-orc, who was apparently named Grayban. "Him hire me as guard. He is good boss."

"It nice when there be good bosses in the world," Deekin nodded.

"Me better keep working," Grayban remembered. "You want to go in door?"

"Yup, please," Deekin affirmed.

"You be good listener," Grayban told him, stepping aside so Deekin could go in. "Maybe we be friends."

"Deekin would likes that," Deekin grinned, entering the inn. The main room was surprisingly large; the occupants were surprisingly few.

"Deekin thinks there be lot more heroes than this," Deekin frowned.

"Drow finds where they is and kills most in their sleep," Grayban shrugged. Deekin shivered, and was suddenly glad he'd slept in a hayloft last night.

"Durnan is man in center of room," Grayban pointed out. "One with beard. He owns place, so you should talk to him."

"Thanks," said Deekin gratefully, and made his way to the center of the room. Durnan was a human man with thinning hair and bushy brown beard, peppered with gray hairs. His eyes were creased with worry as he counted and recounted the dozen or so heroes that had made it.

"Durnan?" Deekin piped up. Durnan noticed him and bristled immediately. Deekin sighed and introduced himself, mentioning his involvement with Undrentide and his hopes of writing another tale.

"Oh," Durnan said, relaxing. "I read that book. So you're Umbra Lumina's sidekick? Did she come with you?" Durnan's eyes searched the room again hopefully.

"No, Boss still be in Shadow Plane," Deekin frowned. "Deekin comes alone."

"Oh...well, I guess you're better than nothing," Durnan sighed. Deekin sighed as well at this comment; well, it was better than being chased by an angry mob.

"When we goes into Undermountain to kills drow?" Deekin asked.

"As soon as His Royal Highness gets downstairs," Durnan growled, glaring at the door leading upstairs.

"'His Royal Highness'?" Deekin repeated, writing this down.

"Yes, Nars Sater," Durnan grumbled. "He's a young hero, already making a name for himself. He's slain hundreds of horrendous creatures, defeated a powerful, evil sorcerer...he even helped drive the fearsome tarresque back into hiding."

"Really?" Impressed, Deekin racked his brain, finally admitting, "Deekin never hears of him."

"Unfortunately, most of us have." Durnan grimaced. "When he offered to help fight the drow, it seemed too good to be true. It is. The bum's still in bed and refuses to wake up, and the others can't start off without him."

"Oh. There be anything Deekin can do?" Deekin asked helpfully.

"Yes. Go wait in that corner over there," Durnan instructed, pointing at a far corner of the room. Obediently, Deekin scurried into it and opened his notebook. He started jotting down notes about his conversations Grayban and Durnan, then began making observations of his surroundings. To his pleasant surprise, he recognized some of the people here as heroes of Neverwinter, who had persevered through a raging plague and defeated the vast armies of Luskan and the traitor Aribeth, finally saving the grand city of Neverwinter. What an honor it was to be in the same room as them!

Nars continued to take his time. A small kitchen adjoined the main room, wafting sweet smells. Hungry as he was, Deekin couldn't resist the temptation to go in. The cook, a man with a greasy apron and a long, thin mustache, growled at his kitchen helpers--two halfling women--and moved quickly from one dish to another. He sampled a dish and then spat on the floor.

"This is horrible!" he shouted. "There is far too much garlic in here. What are we trying to do, keep away vampires?" Noticing Deekin, he waved a wooden spoon warningly in his face. "If you are the one who is filching biscuits, you had better stop!"

"Uhh..." Deekin started, but the cook had already moved on, as was swatting at a fly as he moaned about his working conditions. One of the halfling assistants flashed Deekin a quick grin.

"When the biscuits are finished we will help you snitch one, if you want," she offered. The other halfling swatted her companion and complained, "She does not appreciate the cook's genius!" She smiled at said cook. "He is an artist with food. I have learned so much from him."

"Is that _all_ you've learned from him, Frinli?" the other grinned impishly.

"Shut up, Merin," Frinli glowered, taking the biscuits out of the oven. Once Frinli's gaze was averted, Merin snatched a couple biscuits from the tray and pressed them into Deekin's hands with a wink.

"She's such a pain," Merin whispered, rolling her eyes at Frinli. "You can have the biscuits. We can always make more."

"Thank-you," Deekin smiled, scurrying into the main room with his food. The biscuits tasted even better than they smelled, and sated his appetite nicely. After that, he continued to write of what he saw. After spending so long in the same setting, however, even the great heroes grew tedious. Tiring of writing, Deekin let his imagination wander and doodled instead. The sound of a door slamming shut made him suddenly alert. Blinking, Deekin looked down at what he'd been doodling.

It was a picture of Umbra.

Deekin swallowed, blinked back tears and looked up. Thankfully, the door had been slammed by Nars Sater himself. He wore an old, worm-eaten set of leather armor--hardly befitting of the great hero he was said to be. Nars himself was a young human man with a shock of blond hair, beady blue eyes and a face accustomed to scowling. Indeed, he wore a foul expression as he strode toward Durnan, who was in bad sorts himself at Nars's tardiness, but at least attempted to be pleasant.

"Greetings, Nars," Durnan welcomed cordially. "I am glad that you made it at last. I trust your accommodations were adequate?""

"The bed was hard as a rock, and I don't remember requesting the drow," Nars answered dryly. Durnan's smile was a grim one, belying a deep anger held barely in check--Deekin wasn't sure whether he was angry with Nars, the drow, or both.

"You are kind to joke about it so, Nars, but I must apologize nevertheless," Durnan frowned. "Once I would have been able to ensure the safety of my guests, but no longer. The damnable drow come and go as they please, it seems. These are dark times for--"

"The drow will pay for this!" Nars cut in, fuming. "I want my stuff back!" Deekin wrote this down, gathering that Nars's equipment had been stolen by drow. Deekin was naive, but being a kobold, inherently clever. He wasn't the only one to make such a guess; one of the Neverwinter heroes, an ornery, red-haired halfling rogue named Tomi Undergallows, guffawed.

"Hold on a sec, there," Tomi grinned broadly. "A drow thief came in and stole all your equipment? Ha-ha-ha! If I'd a known ye were such an easy mark I mighta nicked your stuff meself! Ha-ha-ha!" Durnan silenced Tomi's laughter with a cold glare.

"This is no joking matter," he reprimanded. "The drow don't play games; they likely figured you'd be more vulnerable without your equipment. A drow assassin would probably have shown up a few seconds later to finish you off in your sleep." Durnan spoke louder and looked around the room, addressing all of its occupants.

"Waterdeep is under attack, its people live in fear," he reminded them. "That's why I made the call you all responded to...we're going to do something about it."

"Why _you?_" Nars snorted derisively. "Why don't the Lords of Waterdeep deal with this?"

"The Lords of Waterdeep have their hands full protecting the city," Durnan explained calmly, though glaring daggers at the impertinent young man before him. "I have experience with Undermountain, so I have been placed in charge of organizing this venture." Of course, Deekin made a note of this.

"Tomi's willin' to help," Tomi smirked. "Just so long as that 100,000 gold piece reward stays on the table."

""Not all of us are here because of the gold, Durnan," said Linu--one of the Neverwinter heroes, an elven cleric with a heart as big as her feet were clumsy--shooting a dirty look at a nonchalant Tomi. "Some of us truly want to help. Please, tell us what must be done."

"The city is under siege," Durnan told them. "Raiding parties of drow and other creatures rarely seen on the surface are attacking the city. We've determined that these attacks are coming through Undermountain. The labyrinth of Undermountain was created long ago by Halaster, a mage whose power may have rivaled even Elminster himself. Halaster ruled Undermountain like a brutal tyrant. It was his magic that kept the creatures within from pouring out to overrun Waterdeep. Now Halaster has suddenly decided to unleash his creatures on this city, and we need to find out why. I want to know what that mad mage is up to!"

"Would Halaster still even be alive?" Nars asked skeptically.

"Undermountain was built hundreds of years ago, but Halaster is an archmage," Durnan returned. "Time doesn't mean the same to him as it does to us. I'm certain he's still alive...and that he's involved in these attacks." Wondering what brought about the change in Halaster's attitude, Deekin wrote this down as Durnan went on, "It's pretty clear that the answers we seek can't be found here on the surface. The only hope we have of stopping Halaster is to send someone down into Undermountain after him."

"So who's all going on this mission?" Nars prodded curiously.

"Anyone willing to risk the dangers of Undermountain is welcome. Waterdeep needs all the help it can get. Whether you all work together or alone is up to you, I suppose." Durnan jerked his head toward a lower alcove of the room, and a door set in it. "As many of you know, this inn is built around one of the entrances to Undermountain: a magical well that descends thousands of feet down into the very depths of that ever-changing labyrinth." Deekin didn't know this, and wasted no time in adding this detail to his story. The doodle of Umbra caught his attention as he did so; heart aching, he tore the page out and started to crumple it, found himself unable to and crammed the picture in his pack instead.

"Now, I don't intend to send anyone into Undermountain unprepared," Durnan continued. "That would be suicide. I'll offer you what advice and equipment I can. In fact, I think it might be a good idea if--"

"You shut the hell up! That's a great idea!" Nars grinned. "I'll buy some new equipment from the armory next door and then I'll be off. How's that sound, Gramps?" Glowering, Durnan started to say something, but the muffled sound of a something breaking and man yelling cut him off.

"Eh?" Durnan muttered wonderingly at the noise. "It's coming from the well room." Durnan listened intently for a moment, before his eyes went wide with the realization of what was about to happen...

* * *

(That is possibly the cheapest cliffhanger I have ever written. I am ashamed of myself. But, rather than wasting time perfecting the ending of Chapter One, I'm going to start work on Chapter Two. Isn't that better? Remember to review, please.) 


	2. Sidetracked

(A/N: I took a hiatus for the holidays. I...had not anticipated that there would be such a boom in the fanfic population while I was absent. Well, I guess it's all one can expect with "Neverwinter Nights: Platinum" fresh in stores. Thank-you, to everyone who's stayed with me this long, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Nars loves you too.

Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights doesn't belong to me, truly.)

Chapter Two

The well room door burst into flame, quickly dwindling to a pile of burnt cinders. A drow woman in red-and-black armor stepped in the ashes, intimidating despite her short stature. Several male drow crowded behind her, as well as a couple of duergar, the gray-skinned dwarves native to the Underdark, all wearing the same armor. She sneered confidently at the inn's inhabitants, waving her hands and preparing another spell.

"Foul drow!" Durnan growled, drawing a sword from his belt and charging toward her, many of the heroes following suit. "You dare to attack my inn?!"

"Your inn, your city, your race!" the drowess cackled, unleashing the spell. "The rivven will fall before the Valsharess, fool!" Bolts of dazzling bright magic flew out of her palms; each bolt sought out and struck a non-drow occupant of the room, including Deekin, who futilely attempted to hide behind his notebook. Upon being struck, each was rendered immobile.

"I...I can't move!" grunted a man with red dreadlocks, straining against his unseen bonds.

"What foul magic is this?" cried an elven woman.

"Gods help us, they've come through the well!" Durnan groaned.

"Wow, and here I was thinking they came through the chamberpot," Nars said sarcastically. Durnan glared at Nars and started to say something, but at that moment the drowess cast another spell. A bolt of lightning sheared through the ceiling, forking into three prongs and striking three heroes dead on the spot--though none were heroes of Neverwinter. The drowess cast another spell, opening a pit of blackness in the floor. Fortunately, her paralysis spell wore off quickly, and the room's occupants were able to run before the dark vorpal pool sucked them in. The black pit collapsed on itself and vanished, but the drow spellcaster had a few more tricks up her sleeve. She cast two more spells, the first causing shards of ice to fly through the air and open severe wounds in her opponents. The second made fire pour in great spouts from above, charring many badly. Luckily, one of the Yawning Portal's occupants was a priestess, who healed the injuries as quickly as they were created.

"Now ye're gonna get it!" Tomi hollered, stabbing a drow in the leg. The drow stumbled at the pain, lowering himself enough that the halfling was able to reach up and slash his throat. Durnan sliced another drow in half with his sword, and the other heroes dealt their fair share of injuries. Deekin put his notebook away and mumbled a spell of his own, clubbing a duergar in the face with an impossibly large hailstone. The gray dwarf moaned and staggered backward, leaving himself unprepared for Nars's enusing attack.

"Easy as pie," Nars smirked, pulling his greatsword out of the duergar's skull. The drow arcanist lifted her hand and mumbled strange words, causing green froth to spin into being directly above Nars's unsuspecting head. A bitter stench alerted Deekin that the impending substance was acid. Deekin cast a spell of his own; a ray of frost cut directly over Nars's head, freezing the acid into a chunk of green ice. The acidic ice gave way to gravity and smacked into Nars's noggin, splintering into shards on contact. The shards dropped to the floor harmlessly, but Nars looked up in indignant confusion at the hit from above. Cursing the drow, Nars swung his sword and ran one through, boasting of his own might as he did so. Deekin sighed and cast a "buffer" spell to empower the fighters, then another to heal an elven woman's wounded eye. The battle was grueling, but the Yawning Portal's guests won out in the end, and the remaining drow and duergar fled back to the well room.

"Follow me," Durnan beckoned, racing to the well room door and yanking it open. "We must secure the well!"

"To the well room, quick," a red-headed woman urged, bolting after him. Those who hadn't been too badly injured followed after, Nars among them, whilst the more wounded stayed where they were. A fair-haired priestess in a blue dress tended to their wounds, and revived those who had previously appeared dead. Deekin did his best to help, but most were less than fond of being cured by a kobold. Still, Deekin did his best, and once everyone was in fairly stable condition he headed back down to the well room to lend his aid where it was needed there.

Past the well room door was a flight of stairs running along the wall, which led down into the well room itself. A wire mesh screen lined the stair's open side; Deekin started down the steps, but paused halfway down. Kneeling down, he pressed his snout against the mesh screen and looked. This gave him a perfect view of the well room, and the battle taking place in it. Three guards lie slain on the ground, spattered with their own blood. The drow and the heroes stood over their corpses as they fought. Deekin curled his fingers in the wire mesh links, entranced by the battle, which was nearly over. It was something like watching a novel play out before him; his side was winning, and his help was likely unneeded. Beyond the feud, Deekin could see the well itself, a plain cobblestone affair, though abnormally large. Beyond the well itself, the stone floor dropped off steeply into a huge crevasse.

"That not look safe," Deekin said to himself, taking out his notebook and scribbling a quick detail.

The last drow fell on his side, uttering a final cry and vomiting up blood before closing his eyes for the last time. Nars spat on the body and smirked, brandishing his sword victoriously. Durnan grimaced at Nars, then turned his attention to a lever jutting out of the floor. With a grunt, he pulled it back; in response, a system of jagged metal triangles rose out of the floor and closed around the well in a half-sphere, sealing it. Putting a hand on his back, Durnan stood up with a groan, wincing at the pain inflicted by injuries old and new, then looked at the heroes who stood before him.

"It was a close thing, but I think we managed to drive them back," Durnan noted. "I need all of you to stay here and guard the well room until the..." Durnan froze, sensing something was amiss. A second later, up from the depths of the crevasse rose a creature of nightmares--Deekin's nightmare, to be precise. The beholder suspended itself by unknown means, swiveling its vestigial stalk-eyes as the central eye radiated a potent energy.

"What the hell--" Nars cried, backing up. A shot of energy emanated from the beholder's main eye, blasting Nars square in the chest. Nars's eyes lolled up in his head, and he collapsed. A second bolt of energy zapped Durnan in the shoulder, causing the old man to fall as well.

"Noooooo!" Tomi moaned fearfully--fearful for his payment, that is. Deekin grabbed a crossbow out of his pack and skidded down the stairs hurriedly, fixing a bolt in the crossbow and raising it to attack the aberration. Before he could fire a shot, the beholder ducked back down into the wide crevice--undoubtedly, to where the well ended up at. Undermountain.

"Follow that abomination, quickly!" the red-headed woman commanded, yanking down the lever to lower the seal and leaping into the well. She didn't fall, which indicated that there was a platform of some sort within. The rest of the heroes jumped in with her, just barely fitting. Someone pulled a crank, and the platform descended into the well's black depths.

"No, you idiots!" Durnan cursed through clenched teeth. He summoned his strength and got to his feet with a grunt, breathing heavily. The beholder's attack had taken a toll on him. Nars regained his bearings soon after, shaking his head of any ill effects and getting up with the greatest of ease. Noticing Durnan's expression--a clear mix of frustration and rage--as well as the absence of everyone else, Nars piped up, "What's up, Gramps?"

"Blast those fools!" Durnan yelled angrily, paying Nars no mind. "What were they thinking? Rushing headlong into the well like a bunch of impatient children! Don't they realize how dangerous Undermountain is?"

"Perhaps you're more out of practice at this than you thought," Nars suggested with a careless shrug. Durnan glared at him with disgust.

He glares at you with disgust. "Why, thank you, Nars. That's _exactly_ what I needed to hear, how I'm responsible for all this."

"No problem, Gramps," Nars grinned, fully aware that it was sarcasm. "What now, then?"

"I don't want you rushing off in a blind rage like those others, Nars," Durnan sighed, sitting down on the cold rock floor, though too tense for comfort. "You have to be smart about this. You'll need to be properly prepared before you go into Undermountain." He looked up to Nars distastefully. "You're the only one we can turn to now, Nars. You're--

"Waterdeep's last hope, last beaming ray of sunshine and flowers!" Nars cut in, clasping his hands together overdramatically, then dropping them and rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. Look, I said earlier I was off to the armory for new equipment, and a bunch of drow haven't changed my plans, thank-you." Noticing Durnan's deep frown, Nars rolled his eyes once more and added, "Don't sweat it, Gramps. I'll do my best."

Durnan shook his head. "To rely on you so heavily for Waterdeep's future..." he shrugged, sighing. "But I have no choice. I can only hope for the best and wish you well."

"Thanks for the encouragement," Nars responded wryly, scratching his itchy suit of well-worn armor and heading toward the stairs leading up. Planting his foot on the first step, he couldn't help but notice Deekin standing directly in front of him.

"Oh, uh...hello, great hero Nars Sater," Deekin grinned nervously. Nars quirked an eyebrow.

"Am I supposed to know you?" he asked.

"Oh, no, you not knows little Deekin...unless you reads Deekin's book, of course," Deekin remarked hopefully. "It be called 'Shadows of Undrentide'. Did you reads it? Did you likes it?"

"No, I'm pretty sure I'd remember reading a story about a talking lizard," Nars answered, pushing Deekin aside and striding up the stairs past him, ordering too late, "Out of my way."

"But it not be abouts Deekin," Deekin frowned after him. "It be abouts Deekin's boss, Umbra Lumina." It hurt his heart just to say her name, but it stopped Nars in his tracks. Nars turned around and crouched down on the steps, facing Deekin directly.

"Umbra Lumina, you say?" he said curiously. "I think I've heard of her. You traveled with her?"

"Oh, yes!" Deekin beamed eagerly, reminiscing. "Deekin goes on many adventures with great Boss! He writes epic tale of Boss's brave adventures, fighting ferocious manticores, and stinky scorpion-things, and nasty shadow-people and mean snake-lady and--"

"Don't push your luck," Nars interrupted, but rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, you have to be sort of useful if you traveled with a legend...you know, kobold, I might even let you travel with me. I, Nars Sater, barbarian extraordinaire." He jabbed a thumb at his chest proudly.

"Really?" Deekin said dryly, then realized this meant a somewhat safe trip into Undermountain and instantly perked up. "Really?!"

"Depends," Nars said. "Can you carry stuff?"

"Bad back," Deekin informed. "But Deekin great for morale!"

"I don't _need_ morale," Nars said pointedly. "I _need_ a lackey. If you're useless, I'm not taking you with me."

"But Deekin not useless!" Deekin insisted. "Deekin know lots abouts Undermountain. Deekin is bard, after all, and Undermountain be great legend."

"You know things about Undermountain?" Nars asked skeptically.

"Deekin not only knows things about Undermountain, Deekin know plenty of things about drow and Underdark, too," Deekin added hastily. "Old Master Tymofarrar used to speak about it all the time. Deekin knows, for instance, that Undermountain was made by human named Halaster waaaay back before city was here. Was just little dungeon back then, maybe, but humans get so carried away." Nars looked interested, so Deekin continued. "Deekin know lots about Undermountain inside, too... before Deekin come to city, Deekin collect tales of adventurers who go inside and come out."

"Well...I guess it would be pretty convenient if I knew my way around," Nars nodded. "Okay, you're in."

Deekin clapped his hands together excitedly, anticipating a journey into famed Undermountain. "Yay! We make great team, you and Deekin, just you waits and sees!"

"Whatever." Nars climbed up onto the landing and opened the door, trodding up the steps out of the low alcove into the Yawning Portal's main room. Some people still moaned and held their injured spots, but most had been healed well enough and sat back, swigging drinks and chewing foods. All were pensive, some defeated and shameful, others thinking brightly of the future, when they would be strong enough to face such threats as the drow head-on. Ever the diligent author, Deekin observed this and composed mental notes to be written later. Ever selfish, Nars strode proudly past them and out the door into the streets of Waterdeep. Ever the faithful henchman, Deekin followed him, albeit at somewhat a distance.

* * *

There was an armory just down the street. Deekin carefully avoided what appeared to be old blood puddled on the cobblestones as he walked after Nars. The street curved off to the right; they took the bend, and just a few houses down was the armory. Nars pushed the door open and let it swing shut behind him carelessly, nearly slamming his small, scaly companion in it (Deekin promised himself he would write something nasty about Nars later). Inside the armory were two short women, one a halfing and one a dwarf. The dwarven woman hammered away tirelessly at the red-hot, malleable sword blade laid out on her anvil, sweat beading on her knitted brow from both heat and exertion. A dark frown covered the halfling woman's face as she surveyed her displays of weapons and armor. As Nars approached her, she cocked her head to the side and arched an imperious eyebrow.

"If you come to this shop to loot it, you should know that there are protections to guard against such things," she warned him, gesturing to a heavily armored guard hanging around the side of the room. Had the guard not moved an arm, they would have been indistinguishable from the many suits of armor on display.

"No protections could stop me if I wanted to rob you, wench," Nars retorted. The halfling paused and examined his bearing.

"Great pardon. Now that Argali looks upon you, she sees that you have more of the look of an adventurer than a common looter." Her face warped into a cheesy grin. "How can Argali Silth be of assistance today?"

"Wait a minute," Nars broke in. "Are you talking about yourself in the third person?"

"Deekin notices that too," Deekin agreed. "Why you talk like that? Deekin thinks it sounds funny."

"Argali speaks as she does," Argali replied coolly. "And who are you to judge her words, 'Deekin'?"

"Deekin be kobold," Deekin answered defensively. "Deekin gots reason to talks like he does."

"Shut up, both of you!" Nars snapped. "I came here to buy armor, not to listen to two midgets mock each other's speech impedements." Argali and Deekin both stiffened at the "midget" remark.

"You may count yourself fortunate indeed that you have been graced by Argali's presence and that you shall be blessed with her goods, should you have the coin," Argali said curtly, crossing her arms.

"Okay, have it your way...Argali." Nars rolled his eyes. "So, do I get my armor or not?"

"Argali Silth is a great merchant," Argali assured him. "She has generously agreed to keep her shop open and make her arms and armor available for purchase despite all dangers--"

"Whatever. I'm kind of running a deadline here, so can we hurry this up?" Nars urged.

"Of course," Argali nodded, leading him over to a glossy suit of silver-colored metal armor. "Over here we have a fine example of the--"

"I'll buy it," Nars decided, yanking a small cloth bag out of his belt and upending it on the floor, spilling gold coins. Argali grabbed them up greedily, meticulously inspecting them and counting them out, depositing them in a cloth bag of her own as she went.

"Yes...that'll be enough," she finally nodded. "Argali hopes your armor serves you well." Nars had already disassembled the suit of armor and was examining the pieces critically.

"I'm sure it will," Nars answered, "once I put it on." He cleared his throat impatiently. Argali rolled her eyes.

"There is a changing room in the back," Argali informed. "The door doesn't have a lock, but don't worry. Argali thinks she speaks for everyone when she says no one would care to peep." Nars made an unsavory comment about Argali's mother as he wandered into the back of the store. The slamming of a door was loudly audible. A few seconds later, the door was slammed a second time as Nars returned to claim his armor. It took several trips to bring all the pieces into the back room. Once this was accomplished, Nars slammed the door yet again. The noisy clanking of metal and a great deal of cursing could be heard from the back room as Nars clambered into his new suit of armor. Argali rolled her eyes again and, plopped the bag of coins on a squat desk, seated herself at a miniature chair and began recounting her profits.

"DAMN!" Nars shouted, his voice muffled by the wall but still clear. A loud thump that could only be the sound of him losing his balance and falling followed soon after.

"...90...100...110...Is he always like this?...150...160..." Argali asked without breaking her concentration. Realizing she was addressing him, Deekin shrugged.

"Deekin just meets him," Deekin explained. "Deekin not be uppity barbarian's henchman for very long."

"...230...240...250...260...With luck, you won't be...290...300...310..." Argali said frankly, eyes still turned down at the coins as her small fingers deftly sorted them by tens. "...320...330...340...How much is he paying you?"

"Deekin not be getting paid," Deekin replied.

"That is unfortunate," Argali sympathized, counting silently now as she neared the end of her task. "Argali knows you couldn't pay her enough to work for that ass-of-a-minotaur." Deekin chuckled despite himself.

"He takes Deekin into Undermountain," Deekin said. "Deekin puts up with anything for that. Deekin sorry barbarian man be rude to you, though." He hesitated. "Deekin sorry he be rude to you, too. People not be nice to Deekin."

"You're polite by kobold standards," Argali shrugged, then grinned impishly, dropping a fistful of coins in her palm and letting the tokens spill through her fingers onto the desk. Lowering her voice, she added secretively, "The minotaur's ass gave Argali 156 extra gold pieces for that armor. The joke is on him, and it's not coming out of your pay." Deekin grinned as well, just as Nars came out of the back room, trucking the old suit of leather armor in his arms and looking more miserable than before, his dark mood contrasting with his bright new armor.

"This armor is too tight," Nars complained. "Can't I have a different suit?"

"Sorry, no refunds," Argali smiled amiably. "But, if you would care to spend more coin on another suit of armor, Argali would happy to oblige...though she hardly knows your size, and it might take a few purchases before you find a suit your are comfortable wi--"

"Forget it," Nars grimaced. "I'll keep the one I have."

"Enjoy your merchandise!" Argali beamed.

"Don't suppose you could buy the old one?" Nars wondered, proffering the itchy leather armor of Durnan's.

"Argali will give you one copper for it," she told him, barely glancing at the offered armor.

"Then I'll just take my business elsewhere," Nars sniffed indignantly. To Deekin's surprise, he opened the kobold's pack and crammed the armor inside without regard for any personal belongings that might have been crushed in the process. Deekin's knees buckled under the weight.

"Wh-why you does that?" Deekin cried dismayfully, his eyes wide. "We agrees, you hires Deekin to guides you through Undermountain!"

"That, and carry my stuff," Nars smirked, heading toward the door and snapping his fingers. "Giddy-up, pack mule. We have dark elves to slay and mad wizards to smack around until they see things my way." He slipped out the door and into the streets. Straining under the weight of his pack, Deekin begrudgingly trailed after.

* * *

Durnan was waiting for Nars in the well room when they returned. Nars was the first to descend the stairs. Deekin lagged behind, busy writing miscellaneous details. When he finished writing, he looked to see Nars flirting with the fair-haired priestess in a blue dress. Deekin sighed, sat down on the bottom step of the stairs and plucked idly at his lute, savoring the break from heaving Nars's old armor.

"Hey! Why are you just sitting around?" Nars snapped at Deekin, striding over. "We have a city to save!"

"But...but you...but Deekin just..." Deekin sighed and got to his feet with great difficulty. "Neverminds."

"Damn straight." Nars led the way to the well, yanking the lever back with a show of masculinity and a wink in the priestess's direction. Deekin rolled his eyes just as the metal sphere over the well separated into several triangles of metal and withdrew into the floor again. Nars hopped into the well nonchalantly. Reluctantly, Deekin attempted to clamber in as well; Nars grabbed him by the straps of his backpack and hauled him in without grace. A circular wooden platform was the only thing between them and a many, many-mile plummet.

"Remember, just yank the rope when you want back up," Durnan reminded Nars.

"I remember, I remember!" Nars complained, turning the crank set in the well's side. The platform began to descend, picking up speed as it went. Down, down, down they went, for long enough that Deekin had time to compose a short poem--the hard part was pulling his writing supplies out from beneath the armor.

"How can you write in this darkness?" Nars grumbled after a while, squinting through the blackness that had overwhelmed them as they descended.

"Deekin be kobold," Deekin explained. "Kobolds is used to the dark." Deekin sniffed the air. "Kobolds is used to places that smells like slime and dead fish, too."

"Whatever," Nars shrugged. The platform continued to drop, and it must have been ten minutes of such before they finally came to a stop. A rope hung beside them, their only link to the surface. Noting this nervously, Deekin took a look around. They appeared to be in a small cave of sorts. A short distance away, however, was something no cave naturally formed. An arched double door stood against the gray cave wall, flanked by tall and decorative but otherwise useless pillars. Further ornamenting the place was a fresh human corpse stabbed on a pike, and a pile of old human bones, as well as several spots of roaring flame with no obvious fuel.

"Halaster be trying too hard to impress here, Deekin thinks," Deekin mused. Of course, Nars paid Halaster's overdone decorating no mind, walking briskly toward the double door.

"Where you be going?!" Deekin cried, panic-stricken. Nars stopped and turned around, looking at Deekin with a bemused expression.

"I was going to Rashaman to run naked in the fields," Nars said sarcastically. Deekin stared at him for a long moment, and then blinked several times.

"Deekin hears of Rashaman. Is that what peoples do there?" he queried.

"That and eat kobold stew as a delicacy," Nars affirmed.

"Oh." Disconcerted, Deekin took out his tome and made several notes in it, eyes wide. As he busied himself doing this, Nars swept away toward the door to Undermountain once more.

"Waits!" Deekin yelped, rushing toward him and nearly stumbling under the pack's weight. "You can't just walztes into Undermountain!"

"Why the hell not?" Nars scoffed, grabbing the door handle. Instantly, the human bones on the floor pulled together into a fully formed skeleton. A sword in its bony hand, the skeleton lunged at Nars.

"Because Undermountain full of traps," Deekin groaned, too late. Nars easily felled the skeleton.

"No sweat," Nars remarked, pulling the double doors open and waltzing into Undermountain. Deekin sighed and followed.

"Whatever you says..."

Undermountain's entrance was small and unimpressive, but an offshooting hallway led off from this first room and promised more exciting things. To Deekin's surprise, Nars was observant enough to notice another pile of human bones on the floor before him. Drawing his greatsword, he smirked cockily.

"Won't catch me with the same trick." So saying, Nars prepared to bring his sword down full-force on the bone hash. Abruptly, the red-haired woman from the Yawning Portal burst out of the bone pile.

"Wait, wait!" she pleaded. "Lower your weapon! It's me, Sharwyn! From the inn! Remember?" Deekin's eyes widened; he recognized the name. "Sharwyn" had written the book about the Wailing Death and Neverwinter's other plights.

"Oh." Nars said simply, and replaced his sword in its sheath. "What're you doing hiding in a pile of bones?"

"There was a fight when we chased that beholder down here," Sharwyn responded. "We were chasing after the beholder and had almost caught up to it, when suddenly it veered about and arrows started firing upon us from the shadows. I was hit, and whatever the arrow was coated with was making me very dizzy, so I hid and passed out." Sharwyn rubbed her forehead tentatively. "When I awoke, I stayed where I was, in case whatever shot at us was still around. Then you came--"

"How very sad," Nars cut in, his voice dosed with false sympathy. "Though I guess everyone can't be as powerful as I am. But don't worry, buttercup...if you come with me, I'll protect you. So, what do you say?" His grin was suggestive. Sharwyn responded with a strangely sweet smile.

"Hold that thought," she instructed, holding up a delicate finger. So saying, she pulled a heavy mace out of her belt and held it high. "Now hold very still."

"Point taken," Nars sighed, ducking past her. "Any ill will can be taken out on my kobold."

"Can it, now?" Sharwyn said, quirking an eyebrow and looking down at said kobold.

"Heh heh...nice lady not really hits Deekin, right?" Deekin asked hopefully. Sharwyn looked thoughtful.

"Well, I don't--" She broke off and smacked Nars on the back of his head with the mace.

"OWWWW!!! WHAT THE HELL--" Nars yelled, grabbing his head painfully and spinning around. Sharwyn was already out the still-open double door, however.

"Bitch," Nars muttered bitterly, still clutching his head as he staggered forth. "C'mon, kobold."

"Whatever you says," Deekin consented, torn between smiling at Nars's pain and frowning at the weight of the armor, his depression growing at the thought that they were bound to pick up plenty of encumbering loot in Undermountain. And they both knew whose job it would be to lug it.

"Oh, Deekin's aching back..."

"Shut up and move."

(Things are looking pretty depressing, huh? Chin up, Deekin...things have to get worse before they get better. Hang in there, little guy, and Chapter Three will see you through.)


	3. Found

(A/N: My apologies if you find this chapter to be too short, but it seemed like a good place to end off at. Wouldn't it be a waste to spend even more time trying to make this chapter longer when I could be working on the next one? Thought so. Again, thanks to everyone who reviewed.

Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights REALLY doesn't belong to me.)

* * *

Chapter Three

They hadn't gone three steps down the hall, when Deekin realized something was wrong. A sudden chill went up his spine, the side effect of that innate feeling that something is amiss...the handaxe in Nars's side might have been a clue, too. Fortunately--or perhaps unfortunately, thought Deekin--the armor caught the full brunt of the weapon's attack, and the blade lodged no further than the metal. A black-bearded duergar peeked around the hall's far entrance, saw that his attack hadn't hit home, and tossed another handaxe. Nars intercepted the axe's path with the flat of his greatsword, and, needless to say, was not amused.

"FEEL MY BARBARIAN MIGHT!" Nars bellowed, charging at the offending gray dwarf.

"Deekin leaves lame, cliched war cry out of story, he thinks," the unfortunate kobold companion sighed, busily writing details in his notebook. He was aware that he should help, but didn't feel so inclined.

"Kobold! Help me or you're fired!" Nars hollered, fending off the original duergar and twootherswho had joined the fight. It would be tempting to just leave him, Deekin thought. But the odds that he'd find someone else to take him into Undermountain were slim. Reluctantly, Deekin put his book away and mumbled two incantations. The first spell empowered Nars and healed his wounds, while the second caused a ball of fire to plunge from the ceiling. Just before it could drop on Nars, it branched into three fireballs, each one striking a duergar. The fire did not kill the dwarves, but sufficiently weakened and distracted them, so that Nars was able to fell them with only a half-dozen chops of his greatsword. Sloshing the blood off his sword blade with a few shakes of the hilt, Nars grinned down triumphantly at the fresh corpses.

"Score three for Nars Sater, zip for the drow! HA-HA!" Nars declared self-assuredly, preparing to exit the long hallway into the next room.

"One for the Valsharess, wael," smirked a drow male, lunging from the next room out at Nars with a gleaming katana in hand. Nars prepared to deal a killing blow to the elf, but was thwarted when the drow deftly ducked under the barbarian's sword and plunged his own into the handaxe-opened gap in Nars's armor. Nars grimaced, but used his strength as an advantage by grapping the drow's wrist and twisting it. He succeeded in breaking the drow's arm--unfortunately, the drow's hand was still holding the katana, and Nars simultaneously twisted the blade into his own flesh. Enraged, Nars pulled the katana out of his side, holding back screams as it ripped a sizable amount of his flesh out with it. He flung the sword aside, attempting to impale the drow with his own weapon and missing.

While Nars and the drow were engaged in their bloody duel, Deekin took this opportunity to sneak past them both--a difficult thing to accomplish in such a narrow, violent passage, even when kobold-sized--and made it into the next room, careful to keep his footsteps quiet. Nonetheless, the drow and duergar in the room had their eyes trained on the spot from whence he came lest they need to step in to the battle, and easily espied him. Deekin gave a mild shriek and instantaneously cast a spell. Large shards of ice bolted from nowhere and impaled several of the Underdark natives, caught off-guard by such a potent spell from such a seemingly harmless foe. Deekin was pleased with his success; the pleasure faded when the survivors came charging at him, brandishing weapons and starting spells. Luckily, Nars had just entered the room, smeared with dark drow blood and looking smug after another victory. He made a perfect human shield, Deekin found, darting past him.

"What the--" Nars uttered as the kobold rushed past. Looking ahead, he was prompted to repeat this. One foolhardy drow came charging straight at Nars, who pushed the blade of his greatsword into the elf's chest and flung it into one of its brethren. One dead and another temporarily knocked down, Nars was free to decapitate a duergar, well-armored but for the thin gap between its helm and collar. Deekin cast another spell, raining fire on the rest and leaving the charred beings prime victims for a hot-headed barbarian. The drow who had been crushed by his dead fellow was unscathed by fire, disdainfully heaving the corpse off himself and sneaking up behind a distracted Nars, foolishly distracting himself. Deekin grabbed his rapier and drove it through the conniving drow's spine. Paralyzed, the drow fell to his knees; twisting around to swing his greatsword with force, Nars noticed the drow and beheaded him as well as the original target. Finally, the battle was won.

Deekin panted from exertion, but smiled with pride at his part in the fight. "We makes good team, you thinks?"

"You're kidding, right?" Nars growled, shoving the greatsword back in its scabbard after shaking the blood off its broad blade. "You're the worst henchman I've ever had! And that's saying something." Stomping down on a fallen drow's skull and cracking it open with a burst of sanguine liquid, Nars stormed off toward the hall on the other side of the room, completely oblivious to the blood gushing out his side wound. Hesitantly, Deekin healed it up with a charm from a distance and scurried behind. He wanted to write something horrible right then, but was keeping his eyes peeled for traps in this treacherous place. The room they had entered was immense, and brought back memories of Undrentide's palatial insides. Of course, Undrentide had been a place of beauty and grandeur, despite its age, decorated with elaborate frescoes and stylized statues; not so here. This had been built a dungeon and served its purpose faithfully throughout the years, as evidenced by the dried blood that spattered the walls and the corpses that littered the floor--not just the recently slain drow and duergar, but the splintered gray bones of adventurers and thieves killed by marauding beasts or hidden death-traps.

Speaking of which.

A thick but aged rope stretched down from the ceiling, braced to the floor by a closed metal hook. Running the length of the floor where the hook was attached was a strip of metal, on which Nars's foot was bound to land in four to five paces. It was a fantastic trap in a fantastic place, and Deekin felt honored to see it all firsthand, but knew that as much he would've liked to, he couldn't stand by and watch Nars be horribly mutilated by a vicious trap of Halaster's make.

"Mean barbarian man!" Deekin called out to Nars.

"The name's _Nars_," Nars returned indignantly.

"Nars," Deekin corrected himself without sincerity, "you is abouts to step in horrible trap of dooooom!"

"What horrible trap of" --Nars unknowingly stepped on the metal strip with a noisy _clank_-- "doom?" A message of some sort, whether mechanical or magical, traveled up the rope's length and triggered something in the ceiling above. A sheet of gleaming metal whooshed down at Nars, intent on splicing him in half. Admittedly, the barbarian was quicker than Deekin had given him credit for, evading a split second before the metal sheet hit the ground, wobbling fervently on impact. It was a gigantic guillotine, stretching from wall to wall, and Nars had been only a hair's-breadth from being bisected lengthwise. A couple seconds after descending, the guillotine pulled back up into the ceiling.

"HAH! I can handle anything that crackpot wizard has to throw at me!" Nars beamed conceitedly, looking every bit as sure of his abilities as Deekin didn't.

"But Halaster's traps sometimes comes in--" The floor promptly started to rise, in conjunction with the ceiling lowering. "...twos."

"Oh, well isn't this great," Nars groaned, just as five-foot spikes sheared up from every square foot of floor, though Nars neatly avoided being struck by any. "Even better." A spike had grown up between Deekin's back and his pack, suspending the kobold by the straps of his pack. Heart racing, he worked the straps free and let himself down, only to discover that Nars had made a run for it and was almost clear across the room.

"HEY!" Deekin cried.

"Survival of the fittest, kobold!" Nars responded loudly with a grin--and promptly smacked into a metal spike. He avoided spearing himself on the point, but the hit jarred his metal suit and shook the man inside it. Nars recovered a second later, but that was all the time it took for the ceiling--also barbed with long, deadly spikes--to get five feet closer to the ground. Nars scrambled ahead and made it into the hallway, which was thankfully safe for the time being. More than half a room away was his kobold henchman, not so lucky.

Deekin removed the heavy suit of Nars's armor from his pack and breathed in deeply. _Remember Boss,_ he told himself, bunching his leg muscles. _Remember what Boss would do._ With that, he bolted forward, urged on by the Boss's legacy.

He just barely remembered to skip over the metal strip, and his short legs made the stride with difficulty, but he did it. He swerved around five metal spikes and was feeling fairly confident, when a sudden quake caused him to stumble headfirst and bang his snout lightly against a spike. A smarting nose was the least of his troubles; the quake was a result of the ceiling spikes hitting the floor, and the floor spikes hitting the ceiling. The tall spikes pressed against the room's top and bottom and halted them in their movement, granting Deekin a few seconds to catch his breath. He got to his feet and kept on at a brisk but more relaxed pace; abruptly, the spikes retracted and the floor and ceiling resumed gravitating toward each other. Deekin yelped and sprinted forth, giving a cry and tripping when he felt a sharp pain in his foot. The bottom of his foot leaked blood, pooling bright crimson on the dark floor, and he saw what had cut him.

The floor spikes were not entirely concealed, sticking up just enough to pose a hazard to his feet. Deekin pulled himself into a standing position, then hunched over when he saw that the ceiling was getting too close for even him to stand up straight. To save time, he dropped down to his knees again and crawled forward. His elbow grazed a floor spike, slashing a wound in his arm. He ignored the pain and kept on, fighting the desperate kobold instinct to panic. In his mind's eye he could see the ceiling spikes above him, getting ready to press into his back and pin him there to be crushed...

YES! He had reached the hallway! Deekin's claws sank into floor ahead and he pulled himself out into the hall a full three seconds before the ceiling and the floor clamped shut. Exhaling a deep sigh of relief, he sat up in a cross-legged position and closed the fresh cuts, then got to his feet and glared at Nars.

Or at least, where Nars had been standing. Nars was already so far ahead as to be out of sight. Deekin griped to himself and started forth. It wasn't hard to track a heavily armored barbarian through Undermountain's dusty, echoing halls, luckily. Deekin found him twenty yards ahead in a small, unlit room branching off from the hall to the right, hacking an old wooden chest apart with his greatsword, finally opening it only to find he had destroyed the precious statue within in the process.

"You leaves Deekin behind," Deekin frowned at him. Nars shrugged, unconcerned, and got to his feet.

"Survival of the fittest," he repeated callously, inspecting another chest next to the first; having learned nothing, his brought his sword down on this one as well. This time, leaning down and inspecting the insides, he came up with two handfuls of gold, some irridescent gems and a satisfied grin. "Good thing you came through alright, though...I'm going to need someone to carry all the stuff I find here." Lifting a pale eyebrow, Nars peered down at Deekin. "What happened to the armor I--well, nevermind that ratty old suit, I'll find better." Adding the gold and gems to his own pack, Nars reached into the chest and pulled out a heavy old metal helm, which he attempted to drop into Deekin's pack, but the kobold stepped back before he could.

"Deekin not carries stuff for mean barbarian man," Deekin stated defiantly. Nars's ice-blue eyes flashed steely cold and narrowed.

"You'll carry what I tell you to, runt!" he snapped, grabbing Deekin by the collar of his shirt and shoving the helm in his pack, then pressing the kobold's face up against his own. "I'm the boss here. Not you."

"You not be Boss!" Deekin growled lowly, and bit Nars's nose. Nars cried out and jerked back, cupping his bleeding nostrils as his face contorted with anger.

"Why...you little..." Furious, Nars unsheathed his greatsword and raised it high over his head. Deekin backed away, shivering as he prepared for the attack...

The greatsword dropped to the ground with a loud, resounding clatter. Deekin looked up in surprise to see Nars's eyes bulging with fear--and then he saw why. Curled around his neck were fingers, long and black.

"Any matters with Deekin are to be taken up with this one," a familiar voice spoke coldly from the room's dark shadows. Deekin's eyes lit up cautiously.

"Boss?" he whispered. Nars recovered his battle fury and reached behind him. The fingers slipped away from his neck, but a dark, robed form rose up in front of him, barring him from attacking Deekin. Then, with surprising strength for such a slender figure, it gripped Nars by the shoulder and forced him against the wall roughly, holding a longsword to his throat.

"Wh-who are you?" Nars choked, his neck jutting out against the blade with those words and drawing a thin line of blood on itself, while his eyes focused on the emotionless, cowled black face before him.

"This one is called Umbra Lumina," she responded simply. "Perhaps Deekin has told you of this one?" Nars didn't dare nod with the longsword's blade so close.

"Uh-huh," he managed dumbly. Umbra pulled the longsword away so suddenly that Nars fell to the ground. Nars scrambled to his feet and felt for his greatsword, only to remember that it had been taken. Besides that, Umbra was pointing the tip of her sword in his face.

"Leave now," Umbra instructed intimidatingly, "lest this one reveal to you the horrors which the shadows hide." Emitting something between a gurgle and scream, Nars obediently fled. His pounding footsteps echoed down the hall to Deekin's ears pleasantly, sounding almost half as sweet as the sound of Umbra's voice again. They eventually faded off, indicating that he had either found a way out, or more likely, gotten himself lost in the maze that was Undermountain. Of course, Deekin was far too taken with Umbra to notice or care.

"Boss." Tears of happiness glossed his eyes. "You comes back!" He embraced her as tightly as his spindly arms could. Umbra knelt down and returned the hug.

"Yes, Deekin." Her own voice was filled with quiet joy as her slender fingers stroked his head. "This one has returned."

"How you finds Deekin?" the kobold questioned. In response, Umbra pulled back and opened the hand that wasn't grasping the sword. A small, twisted object carved of an odd, radiant substance glowed in her palm.

"What be that?" Deekin asked, fascinated.

"It is called the 'Relic of the Reaper', or so this one was told by the shadow-being who held it," Umbra told him. "The shadow-being told this one that the Relic would take this one anywhere she wished to go. So...this one took the Relic, and wished to go where you were."

"Where Deekin was, Boss?" Deekin was astonished, but pleasantly so.

"Of course," Umbra assured, stroking his head again and getting to her feet. "If you do not mind this one asking, however...where are we?"

"We be in Undermountain," Deekin informed, scrabbling into a standing position.

"Undermountain?" Umbra was thoughtful. "Yes...this one believes the dwarf mentioned this place, once. It is quite dangerous...what were you doing here that incompetent flesh-mound?"

"You hears of Underdark, right?" Deekin began.

"Yes, the shadow lich traded with Underdark denizens for artifacts of power," Umbra replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Well..." And so, Deekin explained the current situation in Waterdeep as briefly as he could. Being Deekin, however, that wasn't very brief. When at last he finished his tale--coupled with emphatic arm-motioning and repetitive details--Umbra was quiet.

"That is quite the tale," she remarked at last. "And you have become quite the adventurer since last this one saw you." Deekin smiled and looked at his feet bashfully.

"Oh, Deekin not knows about that..." He looked back up Umbra. "What abouts you, Boss? You has adventures in Shadow Plane?"

"The Plane of Shadow is a place of drear and darkness," Umbra said. "This one wandered. This one thought. Little more."

"Oh." Deekin's heart sank at the thought.

"Do not be sad for this one," Umbra chided him gently. "This one is here now, and she will help you find Halaster."

"You will, Boss?!" Deekin cried joyfully.

"But of course," Umbra said with a smile in her voice. "Now, where does our search begin?"

"Uhh...Deekin has no clues," Deekin admitted. "We uses Relic, maybe?"

"No," Umbra decided. "The Relic can only be used three times. This one has used it once already...it should be preserved for an urgent situation." She tucked the Relic away in her pack--the same woolen gray pack she had worn on their previous travels. To Deekin's surprise, she held his hand.

"Let our adventures together continue," Umbra proposed, quiet voice as joyous as her face was stolid. "Shall we not proceed onward, Deekin?" Deekin's eyes were still wide with shock, but he smiled broadly and nodded.

"Lets Deekin writes something down first," he said, taking the writing supplies out of his pack--after disdainfully discarding the helmet, of course. Carelessly, he ripped out all the pages he had written one and began writing anew:

"The great hero Umbra Lumina returned from the dark, spooky Plane of Shadows to save the world once again. The faithful kobold companion, overjoyed at this recent turn of events, could only follow her, and wonder what great adventures the even greater hero would go on next."

Finishing the sentence, he returned the notebook to his pack and smiled up at his returned hero.

"Onwards, Boss!" he cheered. "Sequel is only beginning!"

"Onwards, then," she agreed.

And so, reunited, into the depths of Undermountain they set off.

* * *

(Huzzah! A happy ending for this chapter! To be continued in Chapter Four.) 


	4. A Legend Continues

(A/N: Another short chapter, though slightly longer than the previous. As you may have noticed, the Relic of the Reaper in this fanfic differs from its in-game equivalent. You will be finding a lot of changes as the story progresses. In the meantime, enjoy, and thanks to all who reviewed last chapter!

Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights doesn't belong to me... YET. Joking... it'll never belong to me.)

* * *

Chapter Four

"Deekin, you seem changed." Umbra's comment was abrupt. They had been wandering Undermountain's main hall for a time now, never stopping to loot or open a door--from what Deekin had heard, this was the safest tactic when dealing with Undermountain. Greed would be one's downfall in this place. That they had not encountered any others, whether dead or alive, just yet, which indicated that the others had not been so sensible. For the time they walked down the hall, however, Umbra and Deekin had not said anything to each other. There was so much to be said that it was difficult to know where to start; enough to clench even Deekin's jaw. So they had been silent, quietly enjoying each other's company as they hadn't in so long, letting the reunion impress upon them. But now, it was time to speak.

"Changed?" Deekin looked up at her, surprised but pleased that she had noticed. He looked down at his lute, strumming the strings absentmindedly. "Well... the old boss once tell Deekin that he gots dragon blood, that it be strong in him. Deekin never knows what that means... Deekin be small and weak and not breathes fire or anything." He looked up at the ceiling as he walked, noticing a series of cracks in it which a small brown insect scurried in and out of. "But after you leaves, Deekin realizes what old boss means. After you leaves, Deekin knows he gots to fends for himself, that he gots to be strong." He paused, playing a few quick notes on the lute.

"Go on," Umbra urged. Deekin put the lute down.

"Deekin starts training to be dragon disciple, to brings out his dragon blood. It not be very obvious... but sometimes... sometimes when Deekin fights he feels heart beatings really fast and he feel... strong." He looked up at Umbra hesitantly. "Does that seem silly to you, boss?"

"Not at all," Umbra assured him. Deekin scratched his head, unsure.

"It be up to you, Boss. Deekin do what you tells him to. If you wants Deekin to just be faithful bard, instead, Deekin do that and be happy."

"This one cannot decide that for you, Deekin," Umbra replied. "It is your choice, and yours alone. Do that which would make you happiest, but do not become blinded by pursuit for power. Serving under the shadow lich has taught this one well the price of such greed." Deekin beamed up at her gratefully.

"Thanks, Boss."

"Anytime, friend," Umbra responded. Deekin smiled, and they fell silent again. He wanted desperately to ask Umbra about her time in the Plane of Shadow, but knew better than to do so. She had only just escaped the place after a long banishment; bringing it up so soon after would only depress her. Best now to leave her be on the topic.

The hallway ended suddenly, their passage barred by a roughly hewn stone door. There was no handle; Umbra gave it a test push. Obediently, the door swung inward. Umbra was the first to step inside, Deekin following soon after. His eyes swept the room, in awe of what they saw.

They had entered a large, rounded room. Rimming the walls were at least a dozen thrones, painstakingly carved of dark metal. In contrast, the black thrones seated pale skeletons, garbed in ragged clothing which hinted at past finery. A few wore rusted crowns, somehow attached to the slick domes of their bare skulls. Dried husks though they were now, it was obvious they had been important when they lived.

"Deekin reads about this place," Deekin said quietly as they ventured into the room, looking around in astonishment. "This be 'Hall of Sleeping Kings'." Still though they were, the skeletons did indeed give the impression that they were merely sleeping, not dead. Deekin shook his head and went on, "They once rules over lands, very, very long time ago. Halaster keeps them here 'for reasons unknown', books says. Book also--" He froze, staring at a throne he hadn't noticed before.

"What is it?" Umbra followed his gaze. "Oh."

The throne Deekin's eyes had settled upon differed from the others. Gathered about the bottom and sides were stacks of various animal furs, worm-eaten with age. Flaky animal skulls were laid atop them, their fanged jaws unhinged in eternal moans. The king who reigned silently on the throne above them wasn't in any better shape. Unlike the others, he was more than a skeleton; shriveled brown flesh clung his bones yet. The mummified corpse was placed upright, arms solemnly crossed over his chest. He wore no clothes, so a large slit in his stomach from whence the organs had been long ago removed was apparent. His features were warped with dehydration, strands of hair still clinging to his scalp, pressed down by a slim, spiked crown. Something about the whole setup was innately disturbing, even to one as used to death and gore as Deekin. With a shiver, he started to turn away, when a strange voice made him spin back around and stumble back in fear.

"You there! Yes, you!" The voice was tense and harsh, with a metallic echo to it. It took Deekin a moment or so to realize it was not the mummy speaking. He turned around to seeing Umbra facing one of the skeleton kings, who held a black-bladed sword in his lap. The sword glittered an electric blue, almost leaping out of the corpse's grip as the voice spoke from within it. "Take me out of this brute's hand and away from here! I swear, if I must suffer one more decade staring at this room I shall go mad!"

"A talking sword, are you?" Umbra pondered, curiously drawing closer; Deekin scrabbled up to get a closer look at the enchanted blade as well. The sword sighed heavily.

"Far be it from me to make a simple request and hope that an adventurer might do as they are asked, for once. No? Fine. Let's start this out correctly, shall we?" The sword's tone was tired as he introduced himself. "My name is Enserric the Grey. Or, at least, that was my name before my spirit was drawn into this blasted weapon. Yes, yes, chuckle away at my predicament, go ahead."

"Were this one lent to chuckling--" Umbra began, but was cut off as the sword continued beleagueredly.

"You see, I was once an adventurer just as you are, seeking my path through infamous Undermountain. When I was killed by this sword, my soul was sucked inside and here I have been ever since."

"That is a misfortune," Umbra noted. "And you seek to escape now?"

"There is no escape from the sword, now." The sword paused for a moment, thinking. "Well, none that I know of. My soul should have disappated long ago, but I was not about to let that happen. Instead of properly dying I stubbornly tried to escape this sword and return to my body. Instead of being successful, I became... stuck..."

"...and now your soul is entombed within the blade, dooming you to spend your undeath in the hands of a lord not alive himself," Umbra finished.

"Well put," Enserric said, his world-weary snobbery giving way to desperate entreatment. "Please, I beg you! Have a heart, my lady! Take me away from this hall and use me to chop all your enemies to ribbons... at least that would be a better fate than counting the dust mites upon the floor!"

"Let's takes him, Boss," Deekin encouraged. "Deekin spends long time countings pill bugs on floor of old boss's cave, and let Deekin tells you, it gets old."

"As does counting shadow wisps in a chamber of darkness," Umbra commiserated, reaching for Enserric's hilt. "Very well, sword. We two empathize with your plight...you may join us." Before she could take the sword, the dead king's skeletal hand clamped down on her wrist. Umbra freed her hand with amazing fluidity and snatched Enserric up anyway, drawing her own sword with the free hand. Deekin smiled for a moment, seeing Umbra wielding two longswords again. The smile vanished when the skeleton king staggered to his dry, clinking feet, as did the skeleton rulers in the two thrones nearest him. The effect rippled, pushing the skeletons into standing positions all around the room. Deekin spun around just to see the mummy lord snap his arms away from his chest and claw at his mouth, tearing the fused skin away and allowing the long-shut mouth to wrench open with a dry moan. Circling the room, the resurrected cadavers began to enclose Deekin and his hero, jeweled scepters and antiquated swords in their hands.

"You rather neglected to mention this would happen," Umbra told Enserric.

"Well, you _are_ in Undermountain," Enserric responded simply. "I figured you would be prepared."

"So this one is." Umbra lunged forth, slicing a skeleton's head off and sending it toppling to the floor, where it crashed and splintered into half a hundred brittle shards. The decapitated body continued on without it, bringing the top of its heavy polearm toward Umbra, who deftly ducked out of the way and smashed the bony foe's knees in. It crumpled to the ground, whereupon Umbra stamped it into small, unthreatening pieces and moved on to the next. Deekin was quick to come to his hero's aid, casting a fire spell that engulfed many of the skeletons, who were too fragile to withstand the heat and quickly dwindled to cinders. Umbra joined in with a fire spell of her own, destroying the rest in the same manner. Deekin smiled up at her, then looked down at a pain in his ankle to see he was being bitten by a rogue skull. Unimpressed, Deekin shook his leg free and crushed the skull with his foot, then winced and picked a bone shard out of the bottom of his foot.

"A-HA! YES!" Enserric shouted triumphantly. "That's for imprisoning me in this blasted weapon for all these years, you worthless excuses for--oh. Don't look now, but there's one left, mind you."

"This one is aware," Umbra replied, facing the opposite direction that Deekin was.

"Uuhhh..." Deekin turned around and gaped. The mummy was staggering toward them, the flames licking at his dry flesh doing seemingly little but increase his formidability. Umbra kept her weapons ready, and Deekin spread his palms apart, starting an ice spell. The mummy let out a blood-curdling scream, then disintegrated into a flaming mass of ashes before them.

"Well... that was anti-climactic," Deekin grimaced, disappointedly letting the spell finish. A thin ice spray cast out over the ashes, quelling the fire and showing that the undead was truly dead.

"Indeed it was," Umbra agreed, slipping both swords into the sheaths criss-crossed over her back. Enserric gave a disgruntled cry, but it was muffled by the scabbard he'd been encased in. Realizing quickly that his displeasure had gone unheeded, the sword kept quiet. After all, anything was better than being in that damned skeleton's hands for another second.

There were two doors, each on an opposite side of the room. The open door was the one they had entered through, so the closed one was logically the way out. Umbra wasted no time opening it and striding through, Deekin following close behind after jotting a few notes of the epic battle in his notebook. The hall on this side of the room was just as dusty as the first, but much shorter, so they could clearly see the door at its end. It was very impressive, with a billowing clouds of white smoke completely concealing whatever lie beyond it, and two dots of red light circling each other just above the doorframe.

"Halaster go all out on this one," Deekin remarked, making another note and starting toward it. Umbra latched onto his collar, stopping him.

"Could it not be a trap?" Umbra posed. Deekin shook his head.

"Could be... but probably not," Deekin explained. "Halaster not makes instant kill traps, really... mostly traps with way out, if you be heroic enough." Satisfied with this answer, though still cautious, Umbra released her small friend and darted ahead, entering the mystical door before he could. The clouds enveloped her and hid her from sight, but after a moment or so Umbra's hand reached back through and beckoned Deekin, signaling that it was safe. Smiling, Deekin skipped through.

The clouds engulfed and disoriented him for an instant, but blinking cleared the mist out of his eyes and enabled him to see they had entered the beginning of another hall.

"Where you think we--" Deekin began.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" The ear-splitting shriek came from further down the passage, echoing down to where they were. The voice was too ambiguous to know who--or what--had produced it, but was clearly terrified.

"Come now!" Umbra ordered, dashing off down the hallway. Deekin nodded and sprinted after. Their footfalls echoed down the hall's length, bounced along by hard stone walls. There was another sound echoing along it from further on, a loud banging noise that Deekin wondered at. The hall switched off to the left abruptly; Umbra took the turn smoothly, Deekin... with a little less grace, banging roughly into a wall before catching himself and continuing to follow his boss. The hall finally widened, spreading out into a large half-circle of a room, the other half cut out by a wall. In this wall was a stone door, and surroundings the stone door were four male drow. Umbra grabbed Deekin and jerked him back into the hallway, where he quieted his breathing and together they listened.

Exactly what the drow were saying was a mystery, for the dark elves were speaking in their own language. From what Deekin could tell, though, they seemed to swearing loudly. He made a note of this in his tome, of course. Finally, one of the drow reverted somewhat to Common speech.

"Let us in, phindar!" the drow commanded brusquely, pounding on the door.

"Nnnnnoooo," a plaintive voice moaned, barely audible beyond the door's thickness.

"Then you leave us no choice, rath'arg!" the drow snapped, smacking the door with a heavy, spiked mace. One of the other drow said something, and the drow bludgeoning the door stopped and stepped back. The speaker, garbed in a flowing red-and-black robe, murmured something in arcane verse. Strings of fire twirled up from nowhere and slapped furiously at the door. Several whips of the fire-strings later, the spell finally wore off, but for all the spellcaster's effort the door bore not even a scratch. He cursed the door in Drow tongue and commanded the other to do something. They nodded in reply, took out their maces and besieged the door.

"That door is the only continuation of our route," Umbra stated in a hushed tone. "We should slay the drow and try to find a way past it ourselves." So saying, she prepared a spell. Four balls of fire appeared from nowhere, each plunging down and hitting a drow. The drow screamed and fell to their knees, trailing smoke, the fire having self-extinguished. Umbra repeated the spell twice more, the drow too disoriented to seek out their enemy and counter-attack. A fourth attack finally killed them, and Umbra and Deekin rushed forth from their hiding place and over to the door. Deekin carefully avoided the charred corpses on the way, making another note of Umbra's bravery in his notebook.

Umbra pressed her hand against the door and mumbled strange words. The door glowed white momentarily, then faded back to normal. Umbra pushed it; it did not give. Umbra made a sighing sound that wasn't quite a sigh and and paused, trying to think of another spell that might work. To her surprise, Deekin walked up and knocked on the door.

"Anyone be in there?" he called. Silence.

"Yeees..." a scared voice said finally from beyond the door.

"You lets us in, maybe?" Deekin wondered kindly. More silence.

"How's I supposed to know you ain't those mean dark elves?" the voice said at last.

"We not mean drow," Deekin insisted. "We kills drow."

"You whupped them good?" the voice said hopefully, then grew suspicious. "Unless you _are_ them and you're trying to trick me!"

"Open the door no more than a slat, and you will see for yourself what we are," Umbra told the unseen speaker. Another silence; finally, the door creaked open an inch or so. A moment or so later, the door opened all the way.

"Thank y--AGH!" Deekin yelped, taken aback by what he saw beyond the now-open door.

"Hey!" the revealed speaker said pleasantly. "You was right! You ain't them drow, after all!" He grinned welcomingly, an expression that warped the stretched skin of his face into a disturbing expression. He was a flesh golem, created entirely of humanoid corpses sewn together with twine. This led to a very malformed appearance, with one arm stretching longer than the other, and one hand built from the uncorrupted halves of two seperate hands and sporting nine fingers in all. The other hand was made of one, but incomplete, and only four fingers gnarled from it. The legs and torso were thankfully concealed beneath tattered brown clothing, but a pulsating neck writhed out of the shirt's collar and ended into a bulbous head constructed of at least six different heads, not counting the borrowed face parts, with scores of black stitches to exaggerate the sickly fusions. One blue eye bulged out while the green eye sank in its socket, the nose shriveled and brown while the gash of a mouth grinned toothlessly, showing dark, mottled gums. The ears sloped oddly on his temples, while a tube nestled in his skull siphoned fluid into his brain from his spine. And all this was not to mention the slightly decomposed state of his body parts, which gave off a foul odor. To say the least, Deekin was horrified.

"Welcome to you, stranger," Umbra greeted politely, not even fazed by this repulsive merging of cadavers. "This one is called Umbra, and he here is Deekin. What would your name be?"

The creature seemed momentarily confused. "Oh... sorry. Halaster's always telling me to watch my manners. My name's Berger. Halaster is my dad."

"Halaster be your dad?" Deekin blinked, making a note of this in his book. "But you is flesh golem, isn't you?"

"What do you mean by that?" Berger drawled, offended. "Do you think I'm lying? I don't lie! Halaster is so my father. He even told me so."

"Sorries," Deekin apologized sincerely as the golem went on.

"Halaster made me. Told me he sewed me together himself," Berger told them proudly. "I helped him run this place. Everyone used to be real nice to me. They used to smile and nod and say: Hello, Berger."

"Yeah, people treats you nice when you got big friends," Deekin nodded, smiling up at Umbra fondly. "That's why Deekin never has to worry when Boss is around."

"But now things ain't so nice," Berger mourned, though the stitches kept his face up in a twisted grin. "Ever since dad got snatched up, the others don't take such a shine to me. Them dark elves is especially bad."

"Halaster is a prisoner?" Umbra ventured, intrigued.

"Deekin writes this down!" Deekin decided, writing this down.

"That's right," Berger avered, shaken his ill-formed fists. "My dad's in the clutches of them... them dark skinned... pointy-eared... silver-haired... no good drow! Now they're after me, too!" Berger stopped as though to catch his breath, which made Deekin wonder if he could breathe. "Ever since they grabbed up my dad, them drow have been trompin' around Undermountain wherever they please. That's not right. Halaster doesn't like people just marching around here. But they can't kill dad, or Undermountain will come crashin' down around their ears. So they keep him alive. And when he gets out, he's going to be _mad_! Then them drow'll be sorry!"

"You has plan to frees him, maybe?" Deekin wondered, somewhat used to the golem's repugnant exterior by now. Berger scratched his patchwork scalp with a lumpy finger.

"Me? Uh... no." He paused poignantly, brightening. "Wait! I could... no. Oh, I know! I'll just... no. I don't got no plan. I'm not real good at planning."

"Don't you worries," Deekin said reassuringly. "Boss can come up with a plan to save mad wizard. Boss is good at making plans, right Boss?" He looked up at Umbra confidently.

"Yeah!" Berger agreed eagerly, grinning at Umbra. "You look real smart. And tough. I bet you could just smash them drow and rescue my dad easy!"

"Alright," Umbra relented. "This one shall find your father, Berger."

"You will?" Berger beamed. "Yipee! I know you'll do it, too. I can tell just by looking at you."

"See? Boss be great!" Deekin smiled.

"As soon as he's free again, he'll take care of those dark elves!" Berged muttered gleefully to himself. "He'll make them sorry they were mean to me. Them and all the others. They'll all be sorry. Real sorry..." Umbra tapped him on the shoulder, cutting him off. Deekin shuddered; he wouldn't have touched the fetid flesh golem with a ten-foot-pole, himself.

"Where is Halaster being held?" Umbra asked.

"Dad's down on the lower levels. Somewhere. I really don't know where," Berger shrugged, an act that Deekin would have thought would snap his heavy limbs from their loose sockets. "I been spending all my time running from the drow and the rest of the creatures here." Halaster gestured to a door at the far side of the small room they stood in. "You get to the lower levels through that door."

"This one thanks you for your aid in this matter, Berger," Umbra said graciously, starting forth. "Let us be off, then, Deekin?"

"Almost." Deekin scribbled some last-minute details and ran up to her side. "Yep, Deekin ready now, Boss!"

"Farewell, Berger," Umbra said as she opened the door and went through.

"Oh, okay. Well... goodbye, I guess," Berger replied with a wave. "I'll just stay here where it's safe until my dad gets free and puts things back to the way they were."

"Okies," Deekin said, walking through the door. "Bye, Berger." So saying, he shut the door. Berger continued to wave a while after out of sheer boredom. When he finally stopped, the accumulated motion caused his arm to wave without him. Berger grabbed the rebellious arm and forced it back down into place, then closed the impenetrable door again. Sitting down with a grunt, Berger looked around the mostly-empty room he inhabited and sighed. This was shaping up to be boring already. He sure hoped they found Halaster soon...

* * *

(Hope you enjoyed this chapter, stay tuned for Chapter Five!) 


	5. Suspicions

(A/N: This chapter was strangely difficult to write. It gets more exciting after this, though, so I should have an easier time writing the next chapters. Thanks to everyone who reviewed last time, and before I forget yet again, please read Voracious's "These Roads We Walk". Thanks!

Disclaimer: Do I look like Bioware to you? I do? Wow. No one's ever told me that before... regardless, I don't own Neverwinter Nights.)

* * *

Chapter Five

The lower levels of Undermountain were very different than their higher equivalents. Halaster hadn't bothered to carve anything even remotely resembling a dungeon here; instead, Undermountain's bowels were left as caves. Yes, it was all a series of slimy, dripping caverns. It reminded Deekin of his old home in the Nether Mountains. For a second he cringed, thinking he heard Tymofarrar's voice.

Fortunately, the speaker was only an enraged drow, who Umbra speared on her sword before he could even hope to harm Deekin. The drow gurgled, vomited up some of his own blood, then hunched up and fell over, dead. However, he was not alone. A squadron of drow and duergar awaited them, some drawing their weapons and attacking head-on while other cast a variety of spells. Umbra drew both swords and began slashing at the gray-skinned foes, much to Enserric's delight.

"Oh-ho! Yes, that's it, cut her arm off!" the talking sword crowed with bloodlust. "The eye, get the eye! Go for the leg now... yes! Watch the bloody bastard crawl, cut him down before he gets away! There's one coming up from behind--nevermind, it's dead _now_. You used the other sword to slay that one! No fair, it's not sentient enough to enjoy the gore like I do! Ooh, I didn't know insides came in _that_ color..."

Deekin, meanwhile, noticed that there seemed to be a great deal fewer drow now than there had been at first. A simple spell of "True Seeing" revealed several drow and duergar spellcasters hiding behind invisibility spells. Smirking, Deekin cast anough spell and easily lit them afire. The flaming spell-wielders put themselves out with ice spells and grimaced furiously at the kobold, icicles forming on their flared nostrils. Now that they were out in the open, however, Umbra cut through most of their heads before they could do anything, and Deekin yanked out his crossbow and shot bolts into the skulls of those left over.

As they fought the drow, Deekin gazed over at Umbra and smiled. Her long black hands gripped the gleaming longswords steadily, neither clenching nor slipping on the hilts. Her swings were confident, easily slicing through bone matter and tissue as though it were butter. All the time, her slim face never changed in expression, always stolid. Even when a dark elf's weapon bit into her side, she issued not a cry, not a grimace, while the bewitched cloth of her robe quickly stitched itself back together. Though covered almost entirely by the robe, her movements were nonetheless fluid and graceful, darting quickly between two fully armored duergar and caused them to clang together, whereupon she closed in for the kill. If an enemy made to come down with a deathly blow on an unsuspecting Deekin, she darted in, diverted the attack and turned it against the attacker. When she tired of melee fighting, she drew back and summoned intricately patterned fire spells, a splendor to watch as they shot down and scalded their enemies. She was _wonderful_, and the kobold couldn't be more thrilled with her return. Deekin sighed happily, then turned back to the fight at hand and drove his rapier deep into a duergar's ear.

"Aaah, I haven't had a fight like that in years!" Enserric commented cheerily, his blade dripping an extensive amount of blood. The battle was finally over, Deekin and Umbra--and, apparently, Enserric--the victors. "Did you see the look on that dark elf's face when I slit open his belly? Hah! When his intestines tumbled out, he looked ready to--"

"Umm, talking sword be quiet for little bit?" Deekin suggested, writing frantically in his notebook. "Deekin tryings to concentrates."

"Bah, kobolds," Enserric grumbled. "Lousy lizards... I never met one I liked." He did fall silent, though partially owing to Umbra having slid him into a scabbard.

Looking up at his hero's tall form, Deekin felt compelled to ask Umbra something. There were so many things--the mysterious "Relic of the Reaper", or even more mysterious, the shadow creature that had given it to her. There was Undermountain to talk about, the drow's maniacal plotting to ponder, their times without the other to commiserate, good tales to share, random things to gibber about... Yet in the end, one ultimate question popped from Deekin's mouth.

"Can Deekin goes potty, Boss?" He could have kicked himself.

"Of course," Umbra consented.

"Thanks, Boss..." Bowing his head in humiliation, Deekin located a suitable corner of the cave in which to relieve himself. When his business was finished, he hitched up his pants and secured them with a belt, which he'd customized to closely enwrap his diminutive waistline. That taken care of, he turned around and started back toward Umbra.

"Boss--" he started humbly as he approached her. Umbra spun around to sharply he stumbled back involuntarily. Her arm shot out in an instant, reaching past him toward the cave wall. Tumbling out of the way, Deekin watched in stunned silence as Umbra reached into the dark shadows that pooled at the wall's bottom. As Deekin watched, he saw Umbra's arm vanish into the darkness momentarily, then return with a drowess seized by the neck. The drowess choked as Umbra's fingers encircled her windpipe and tightened threateningly. Over a head taller than the drow, Umbra lifted her struggling captive off the floor by the throat.

"Fool. You thought to catch us off-guard?" Umbra hissed. "You cannot hide in shadow from one _of_ shadow."

"Pl... ease..." the drow burbled, eyes watering and fingers scrabbling weakly at Umbra's own. "L... et... me dowwwnn... I'll... ex... plain..." The drow made a pitiful sound as she tried to breathe. "Umbra... Lumina..." Deekin's eyes widened in surprise as the drow uttered Umbra's name.

"Drops her Boss! Quick!" he pleaded. "She almost dead!"

"As you would wish it." Umbra's fingers released their grip, letting the drow fall to the floor, where she collapsed in a heap and hacked and coughed, desperate for oxygen.

"Speak now," Umbra ordered her. "Who are you to know this one's name?"

"Gives her a chance, please, Boss," Deekin frowned sympathetically. "She needs air." Respectful of his wishes, Umbra stayed back while the drow inhaled and exhaled frantically. When at last her breathing returned somewhat to normal, the drow looked up at them with bleary eyes and got to her knees in a vague attempt to save lost pride. She was still unsteady on her feet, rubbing her neck gently as she spoke, her voice slightly raspy after such rough treatment.

"I mean you no harm," the drow told them, though her eyes regarded Umbra resentfully. "Apparently, I cannot say the same for you." She stopped to breathe. "I understand your suspicion, but not all the drow are after your blood. Just listen to what I have to say, and it will all become clear." Her clothing was different than the other drows', he noticed; rather than red-and-black, it was a looser, gray sort of armor.

"This one shall listen," Umbra agreed, but drew her weapons and kept them ready, staying close to Deekin should the drow try to assail him.

"My name is Nathyrra," the drowess introduced, staring at Umbra warily. "And _you_ must be the one they call Umbra Lumina."

"How do you know this one's name?"

Nathyrra smiled feebly. "Your reputation precedes you, Umbra. I know who you are. You're something of a legend among my people." She seemed somewhat disappointed. Umbra certainly wasn't the bluebird of happiness. Deekin tried to cheer the bleak mood.

"Deekin writes book and makes you famous, Boss, just like he says he would!" he beamed at Umbra, then at Nathyrra. "So you reads book, yes?!"

"Uhh... some of us have, yes," Nathyrra avered. "But there are other means of knowing."

"Oh." Deekin was slightly put down, but remembered to bring out his writing supplies and begin recording the conversation.

"What business have you here?" Umbra demanded. The Boss's social skills truly left something to be desired, Deekin thought with an inward sigh. But no one was perfect.

Nathyrra furrowed her brow, carefully considering her next words. "Although I am a drow, I am not allied with those who are attacking Waterdeep," she assured them. "Me and my people are different. We are--"

"You means 'my people and I'," Deekin corrected her abruptly, scribbling away in his tome. "'Me and my people' be bad Common." Nathyrra stared at him in disbelief.

"This from a kobold who speaks in the third person?" she murmured incredulously, then shook her head. "Nevermind. My people and _I_--"

"Much better," Deekin nodded approvingly. Nathyrra sighed, exasperated.

"As I was saying, my people and I are different. We are... rebels."

"I don't know, Boss," Deekin said thoughtfully, deliberately using correct Common to prove that he could. "Deekin not know much about drow, but they be bad news."

"Much like kobolds, and yet here you are," Umbra reminded him. "Should you not focus on writing besides, friend?"

"Oh, yeah," Deekin grinned sheepishly, looking down his snout at the notebook as he resumed writing. Nathyrra, pleased that Umbra seemed to be getting over her initial suspicions, went on.

"We want to help you, Umbra," Nathyrra insisted. "We want to help you free Halaster so you can stop the forces of the Valsharess from attacking Waterdeep."

"The Valsharess?" Umbra and Deekin repeated curiously together. Neither knew who she was, Deekin having heard of her only in the passing, and Umbra not at all.

"The Valsharess is the ruler of House Kilath, a faction from the drow that has recently risen to prominence," Nathyrra informed solemnly. "The drow invading Waterdeep serve the Valsharess and her house. Her forces captured Halaster, giving them free access through Undermountain and allowing them to strike at the very heart of Waterdeep." Nathyrra smoothed a strand of silver hair out of her dark face, though not near so dark as Umbra's. "But not all the drow follow the Valsharess. There are some of us who oppose her, and will do whatever we can to break her power."

"So you claim to be an ally," Umbra mused. "How do you plan to help us?"

"There is only so much we are willing to do, Umbra," Nathyrra frowned, gazing uncertainly at Umbra's emotionless face. "I admit, we don't fully trust you yet--just as I'm sure you don't fully trust me." She halted hesitantly, then continued. "We weren't even certain we should even approach you, but in the end we thought you should know that there are others who want to see the attacks on Waterdeep ended. At this point, I'm only here to provide you information, Umbra. Nothing more."

"Provide us with information, then," Umbra urged. "Where is Halaster being kept?"

"I've done some scouting on this level; the wizard is being held far from here," Nathyrra told them. "Go through the north caverns, then head to the west once you are past them. There is a powerful drow war party guarding the wizard. If you want to free Halaster, you'll have to find some way to deal with them."

"So we shall," Umbra noted. "Thank-you for your time, Nathyrra. We shall be on our way, and you yours."

"Goodbye, Umbra," Nathyrra nodded politely. "And good luck. Maybe we'll meet again, sometime." With those words, Nathyrra disappeared back into the shadows. Even Deekin's keen eyes could not pick her out, but Umbra had no trouble, turning slightly over a short period of time as she watched the drow leave. Finally, she turned back to Deekin.

"Onward, then?" she wondered.

"Uh, almost." He jotted down a few more sentences, left off and tucked the writing stuffs away. "Before we sets off again, Boss, Deekin gots to wonders..."

"Yes?"

"You finds drow-lady easy when she be hiding in shadows, right?"

"Correct."

"But when Deekin first sees you, he follows behind you for long time and you not notices him one bit!"

"Oh, but this one did," Umbra said calmly. Deekin blinked.

"You... did?"

"Of course," Umbra said simply. "This one wondered why you were following her out your safe nook in the abandoned house, but you posed no great threat, so she kept on. When you burrowed yourself in the snow, though, this one became immediately intrigued." Her tone was fond. "This one is glad she investigated."

"This one--er, Deekin is too, Boss," Deekin smiled, though still somewhat stunned by this new information.

"Should we find Halaster now?" Umbra queried. Deekin nodded, and so they ambled on, Enserric grumbling unintelligibly in his sheath as they walked.

As Nathyrra had instructed, they headed north. A few malevolent drow skulked in the dark, leaping out at the kobold and the hooded one as they passed, but these assailants were easily disposed of. As they went further on, however, one drow cut Deekin's throat badly. Umbra lopped off the offenders head, knelt down, pressed a hand to Deekin's bleeding neck and murmured some arcane words. Grateful for her touch, Deekin smiled up at Umbra's solemn dark face as she chanted. A resulting spell healed up the throat wound nicely.

"Are you alright?" Umbra wondered, caressing his neck gently. "This one understands such cuts can be fatal." Deekin nodded, still smiling.

"It not hurts anymore," he assured.

"Most fortunate." Umbra stood up swiftly, braced Deekin's shoulders and easily pulled him up as well. Ascertaining that the kobold could stand on his own, Umbra started ahead at a steady pace. Deekin adjusted his backpack straps and traipsed after. He admired the Boss's lean, robed form striding smoothly ahead of him. She was kind, brave, powerful _and_ beautiful, he thought. Her return was even more important to him than the drow raids.

"Umm... Boss?"

"Yes, Deekin?" Umbra responded, turning west. Stalactites dripped slime from above as they traversed the caves' ringed interiors.

"Deekin just wants to say--" He narrowly caught himself. "...you is best friend Deekin ever gots." Umbra was pensively quiet.

"This one... is?" She sounded surprised, but genuinely touched. "This one... has never been anyone's friend before. Let alone a best friend." Now it was Deekin's turn to be surprised.

"Not anyone?" he cried.

"Not anyone," she affirmed. "This one would--" She cut off abruptly. Moments later, Deekin saw why as Nathyrra materialized from the darkness.

"Oooh! Here come drow lady again!" Deekin remarked, advising, "Look sharp, Boss." This was laughable, of course, as Umbra's look never changed.

"We meet again," Nathyrra greeted, approaching. "Somehow I knew we would."

"How you knows where to finds us?" Deekin wondered, getting out his supplies and resuming writing.

"I've been waiting for you here," Nathyrra explained. "I knew you'd have to come this way eventually if you wanted to free Halaster." She gestured to the wide area of cave behind her. A distance away, the cave was halved by a wide stream, which was bridged by a thin rock formation. "I've been scouting the area, and I came across a large encampment of the Valsharess's forces near here. If you take this bridge--" she referred to the natural rock formation "--you'll be walking right into them."

"Many thanks for the warning," Umbra acknowledged gratefully. "We shall proceed with caution."

"There's more," Nathyrra smiled. "The drow have set up a pair of ballista on top of a ridge behind their camp. If you attack them head on they'll use the ballista to smash you to bits."

"Uhh... Deekin pretty sure he allergic to being smashed to bits," Deekin decided.

"But there's a way you can sneak past the camp and get to the ballista unseen," Nathyrra continued enthusiastically. "Then you can use their own weapons against the rest of the camp, and rain death down on them from above!" She grinned at the thought.

"Deekin likes this plan, Boss," Deekin nodded. "Give them nasty drows a big surprise!"

"Just follow the narrow corridor to the north," Nathyrra advised, pointing to the area past the bridge formation, where the cave narrowed. "It seems to lead to a dead end, but there is actually a secret passage that will take you right to the ballista."

"Know, drow," Umbra warned, "that if this is a trap, the shadows will not hide you from this one's wrath." Nathyrra shrugged carelessly.

"Do as you will," she said simply. "Attack them head on and be smashed by the ballista, or use the passage to the north and beat them at their own game. The choice is yours." Before Umbra could say anything, she added, "I have to go now, Umbra... unless there is something else?"

"That... is all," Umbra responded. "Thank-you for the warning... if that is, indeed, what it was." Nathyrra only shrugged again and melted back into the shadows. Umbra began walking again. Deekin finished writing as hurriedly as he could and scrabbled after.

"Where is we headed, Boss?" he wondered.

"This one does not know," Umbra admitted. "This cannot tell when your like is lying. Deekin, do you suppose the drow was telling the truth?"

"You is askings Deekin?" Deekin scratched his head, trying to decide while simultaneously wondering what Umbra had meant by "your like". "Uhmm... Deekin thinks drow lady tellings the truth. She seems nicer than other drow... she not looks nasty at Deekin or anything. We always runs if it be trap, anyway, right?"

"Right," Umbra agreed, speeding her pace now that a resolution had been reached. Walking alongside the cave stream, they passed the rock bridge. Across it, Deekin saw an area of cave littered with tents and crates, as well as drow and duergar. Deekin froze, fearing that they would be spotted. A second later, a barrier of darkness enveloped them; Umbra's invisibility spell. Deekin relaxed, and reveled in that the Boss was thinking along the same lines as he. The spell was a success; they were unnoticed, and went on without incident, aside from Deekin near-slipping in a puddle of slime.

Deekin gazed around the cave as they walked. It really did remind him of the Nether Mountains caves--except, of course, this cavern was not near so cold. The particular area they were venturing through was very wide, much like the area Tymofarrar had lived in, though in this instance there was no portly young dragon to occupy it.

"Deekin, what is that?" Umbra said suddenly, arm outstretched toward a creature wandering outside their bubble of invisibility.

"That be a beholder, Boss," he informed nervously. "They can sees through invisibility spells." On cue, the beholder's central eye lit up and looked right at them.

"It can, can it?" Umbra said calmly as the airborne abberation hurtled toward them. Umbra swiftly withdrew a sword and speared the creature right through its eye. The monster roared and spasmed in pain, while Umbra hit the sword against the ground and smacked the beholder in half.

"Phew, that be close," Deekin sighed. "For a second, Deekin thought drow was going to notice--"

"HAHA! GOOD SHOW!" Enserric boasted delightedly, his metallic voice echoing boomingly around the cave. "That'll show that floating eyeball to--"

"You imbecile!" Umbra snapped as the invisibility sphere vanished, shattered by the loud noise. The drow and duergar looked up from their guarding duties, eyes narrowing upon spotting the intruders. "You have given us away!"

"Well, how was I supposed to know we were hiding?" Enserric cried indignantly. "Stuffed in that smelly scabbard, you expect me to hear--" Perturbed, Umbra shoved Enserric in said scabbard.

"Boss, what we gonna do?" Deekin cut in fearfully as the drow stampeded toward them. There were at least twenty--no, thirty--perhaps forty, fifty or more of them! Deekin's stomach felt ready to drop out of him.

"This one knows not," Umbra responded mournfully, more for than Deekin's sake than her own. An instant later, she brightened. "Except..."

"Prepare for death, surfacer scum!" a drowess screeched, tossing a shuriken at Umbra and narrowly missing. Umbra ignored her, chanting softly.

"I won't miss this time!" the drowess threatened. Deekin saw a duergar preparing a fire spell and quickly cast a shield spell over them. The duergar's spell of fire was deflected, the roaring blast of flames gushing off Deekin's invisible sphere in hot waves, dispersing to faintly glowing embers that scattered about the ground and died. Deekin's heart thudded a mile a minute; he could only trust the Boss knew what she was doing...

"You will know darkness!" A drow dove through the shield and prepared to drive his dagger into Umbra's chest. At that moment, Umbra finished the spell.

"No," Umbra said with something of a smile in her voice, "you will."

"Huh?" the drow puzzled. He did not see the many shadows which clung to cave's crevices stirring to life and peeling themselves free, thronging together in pools of impenetrable blackness. The perplexed drow was the first to be claimed by it, screaming as the shadows blanketed him, smothering him and dragging him down. The blackness surged toward the Underdark denizens, splashing against them and whisking down their bodies. Carpeted by the thick, cold blackness, the drow and duergar screamed and collapsed to their knees, clawing at themselves as they tried to peel the wretched ethereal substance off them. Writhing there in that sea of darkness, shrieking with paralyzing terror and clawing at their skin until they bled, the Valsharess's fighters were truly a pathetic sight.

"Come now!" Umbra ordered, grabbing Deekin and tucking him under her arm. She sped past the afflicted elves, racing unaffected through the living darkness she had summoned. She cut around the tents and crates of food with ease, stumbling not even once. A large wooden double door was inlaid in one towering rock wall. Figuring it to be the way out, Umbra sprinted toward it.

A drow leapt out of the sludgelike blackness and barring their path, moaning as he reached to stop them. Umbra slapped him aside and made it to the door, letting Deekin down and heaving it inward. The door immediately buckled in, revealing the expanse of the next area to them. She ushered Deekin within and quietly creaked the gargantuan doors shut behind them. Fortunately, a large plank of wood served as a giant bolt on this side of the door, and Umbra slid it down to keep the doors closed against any outside interference.

"Come now," she said again, tugging at Deekin's hand urgently. "This one's spell will not last, nor will the bolt when the lifelings recover!" Obediently, Deekin began to run ahead with her. Before they could continue, however, a certain drow rose up out of the darkness in front of them.

"And so we meet again," Nathyrra greeted. "You'll be pleased to know that your quest to rid Undermountain of the Valsharess's drow is nearly at its end."

"Do not bar our way, Nathyrra," Umbra threatened. "Your last plan proved a trap, and you may count yourself fortunate if this one does--" Before Umbra could launch into a detailed explanation of Nathyrra's undoing, the drowess cut in.

"My plan would have worked if you had made it to the end of the cave," Nathyrra insisted. "And don't worry. The drow you attacked won't be following. I eavesdropped on them earlier, and they have been specifically instructed to stay put no matter what." Umbra's sounded slightly relaxed, but still tense.

"Why should this one believe you?" Umbra demanded, suspicious.

"Because we have to work together if the Valsharess is to be defeated!" Nathyrra shot back, sweeping an arm toward another another tall wooden door that stood behind her. "Look. The mad mage is being held just beyond that door, guarded by some of the Valsharess's most loyal and powerful servants. No doubt they'll attack us on sight."

"Not one step closer, drow," Umbra hissed, drawing the sword that _wasn't_ Enserric and holding the point close to Nathyrra, guarding Deekin with the free arm.

Nathyrra sighed in exasperation. "I was hoping you would trust me by now. I'm not your enemy; the Valsharess is."

"How is this one to know," Umbra replied mistrustfully, "that _you_ are not the Valsharess?" Nathyrra's eyes widened at first; then she thew her head back and laughed. "Ha-ha-ha! Me? The Valsharess?" she snorted with mirth. "You are as mad as Halaster himself! If I was going to disguise myself, why would I disguise myself as a drow?"

"But maybe a drow lady who pretends to be another drow lady tricks people who think she's not the first drow lady, even though she is!" Deekin suggested, grabbing his pen and notebook and writing wildly, then scratching his head. "But then if people think second drow lady might be first drow lady, first drow lady can't pretend to be second drow lady... unless everyone expecting drow lady two to really be drow lady one! If people expecting it, then maybe drow lady two can be... uh... maybe drow lady one is... hmmm, that not makes sense. Oh, Boss, Deekin's brain hurts."

"Perhaps there is a third party involved," Umbra chimed in wistfully, "in which case the first drow could be the third in disguise, whilst the second pretended to be the first and the first pretended to be the second! Yet what would be the point of that? Why would it require three flesh ones in the first place? Would there _need_ to be three?" Umbra and Deekin fell silent as they attempted to puzzle the mystery out. The drow simply shook her head in the face of such convulted logic, obviously deciding it was an argument she'd rather not become part of. Instead, she focused on Umbra.

"You want to end the threat to Undermountain, Umbra," Nathyrra reminded. "So do I. The way to do that is to kill the drow in the next room so you can free Halaster."

"Why are we freeing the mad wizard?" Umbra questioned, still boggled.

"So he keeps drow and other Underdark beasties in Underdark," Deekin replied.

"Yes," Nathyrra avered, somewhat irritated. "Halaster is imprisoned in a magical globe powered by three energy stones. If the stones are destroyed, the mad mage will be free--and he'll likely help us dispose of any remaining drow. You might be able to do this alone, but you'll have a better chance if I'm fighting by your side. Now let's stop talking about it, and let's go save Halaster." And that was that. Nathyrra started ahead stubbornly.

"No--but this one--you do not have the consent--oh, forget it," Umbra grumbled, sheathing the drawn sword and following after. Deekin shrugged, finished up his writing and followed as well, smiling to himself. A trapped wizard, legions of subterranean monsters, a mysterious enemy, an adamant drow, and a paranoid hero? The sequel was looking great already.

* * *

(A/N: With luck, this chapter was worthy of my awesome fans. Keep up the reviewing, and I'll keep up the writing!) 


	6. Still More Suspicions

(A/N: It was near impossible to get myself started, but once I did, it was all downhill from there. Lots of talking in this chapter... Thanks for all the reviews last chapter!

Disclaimer: Still don't own Neverwinter Nights.)

* * *

Chapter Six

Nathyrra balked before the second double door, then pressed her ear against it. Umbra stood back silently. Cautious, Deekin kept both his rapier and pen at the ready and pressed his ear against the double door as well. He could hear voices beyond it now.

"The Valsharess is tired of sending raiding parties through one at a time, old man," growled a fed-up female voice, most likely a drow. "Open the main portal to the Underdark!"

"If the portal is opened, more drow will come through," an old man-Halaster, obviously-responded defiantly, speaking in rhyme. "I don't want that; I can barely stand you."

"The Valsharess's army is ready to move against Waterdeep! Tell me how to open the main portal!" the drowess snapped.

"The last thing I need is another dark elf," Halaster denied. "I'll just keep my secret all to myself."

"No! No more rhymes, you senile old wael!" the drow barked, severely irritated by this point. "Time to teach you the penalty for defying the drow!" Nathyrra peeled her ear away from the door as Halaster cried out in pain.

"See?" she smirked at Umbra. "They _are_ keeping Halaster hostage."

"You would do wise to stay alert," Umbra remarked unflinchingly. Nathyrra rolled her eyes and continued to listen. Pulling a splinter out of his ear disdainfully, Deekin did the same.

"This is a waste of time, mistress," insisted a male voice from beyond the door, another drow. "This human is too mad to reveal any useful information."

"We will break him in time," the first drow insisted. "Once we learn all the secrets of Undermountain, the Valsharess's army will march through its halls and descend upon Waterdeep like-"

"Mistress!" interrupted a third drow. "Forgive me, but I heard something near the doors." Deekin and Nathyrra froze.

"Then go over there and search the area, wael!" the commanding drowess snapped impatiently. "Do I need to tell you everything?"

"Yes, mistress," the drow said quickly. "Right away." Were Deekin not so concerned with their impending discovery, he would have laughed at the drow's accidental implication that he needed to be told everything.

"Step back quickly," Umbra ordered, coming forth. "Both of you." Obediently, Nathyrra and Deekin did as told, the former with some reluctance. Umbra stood against the wall beside the double door quietly, as the approaching drow's footsteps echoed through the stone halls, leaking muffled through the wooden door. The double door opened a slat, pried by slim drow fingers. The drow's head followed soon after, his eyes widening at the sight of Nathyrra and Deekin, Umbra still out of his view. Before he could open his mouth to make their intrusion known to his allies, Umbra's arm whisked out and snatched him tightly by the neck, so all he could utter was a gurgle. Umbra pulled him out into their area, closing the double door behind him. Not even bothering to draw a weapon, she simply snapped the drow's neck and lay his corpse down quietly.

"See how strong Boss be?" Deekin whispered, grinning up at Nathyrra.

"Yes... unsettlingly so," Nathyrra replied, surveying the bulging eyes of the swiftly silenced victim. "Are you sure she's hum-" Nathyrra broke off and shook her head, unsheathing a shortsword from a small scabbard on her belt, its dark blade alive with blue electricity. "Nevermind. Let's attack while we still have the element of surprise."

"Sounds good to Deekin," the kobold agreed, finishing up writing of the Boss's newest victory and drawing his rapier. Umbra, too, drew one of her swords, sensibly keeping Enserric in his sheath for the time being. It was a wonder someone without a mouth could be such a big mouth, Deekin thought.

"Wait." The other two looked at the previously silent Umbra, who muttered a spell. Instantly, the dark sphere of her invisibility magics swept up around them.

"Ooh, smart thinkings Boss!" Deekin complimented. Figuring he should help, he cast a spell of his own, summoning a sphere of shield beneath Umbra's sphere of invisibility. This done, they headed for the door. Stopping them again, Umbra cast a second spell. The shadows sprang to life and writhed from their corners yet again, pushing the double doors open and wriggling out ahead. The drow instantly began fighting the shadows, unaware that they were only ploys, their real foes entering the room unseen.

The setup of the room had two high banks of rock, each supporting about three drow archers. About a dozen melee fighters cavorted below them, while just ahead the commanding drowess threatened Halaster, who was bound by strings of magic emitted from three jagged stone slabs. The enlivened shadows flitted about harmlessly, teasingly leading the malevolent drow all over the room, unharmed by fell dagger swoops and hazardous magics. Taking advantage of the chaos inspired by the stratagems, the opposing trio arranged a coup d'etat: Umbra cast a fire spell, which came down and fried the archers where they stood; Nathyrra burst out of the protective bubble and lunged at a drow, slitting his throat open with an easy swing of her blade; and Deekin went through a rapid bout of casting buffing spells on his accomplices, ice spells on his enemies, and repeat, stopping occasionally to gouge a drow with his rapier.

Even with this preconceived plan working to their advantage, Deekin and the others were still outnumbered, and for all their skills the battle was nonetheless grueling. The drow had quickly caught on to Umbra's shadow trickery, and the puppets of darkness had since evaporated in wisps besides. There were some close calls-Nathyrra fell and narrowly avoided having her head smashed in by a heavy hammer, Deekin was very nearly stabbed to death on several occasions, and Umbra's robe was nearly set ablaze, had she not beat out the aspiring flames with the drow that lit them in the first place. Ironically, said drow was set afire in the process. It was a tough battle, to be sure, but Umbra, Deekin and their new accomplice won out in the end.

Nathyrra leaned against one of the rock elevations and rubbed a pasty salve into a nasty wound on her arm, which healed over swiftly.

"I'm glad it all turned out well. For a second there, I was afraid I wasn't going to come out of that battle alive," Nathyrra mused, echoing Deekin's thoughts exactly. Nathyrra gestured to Halaster. "We should free him now."

"Yes, free me right now! Shatter the tablets and undo the spell cast by those dreadful drow!" Halaster ordered, squirming and straining against the rivulets of magic streaming from the three stone tablets and twining around his being. Umbra stepped up to Halaster, examining him.

"This one has her doubts," Umbra decided.

"But-if we don't free Halaster, the drow will keep coming up!" Nathyrra reminded them.

"Yes, but this one served under a maniacal mage for countless years," Umbra returned. "And from her experience, they are less than grateful when helped."

"What you means, Boss?" Deekin wondered because Nathyrra could say anything.

"Deekin, suppose your old master were trapped in a cage," Umbra hypothesized. "Now suppose a wandering hero let him out. How do you suppose he would react?"

"Uhhh... Old Boss probably eats hero. He not be very grateful," Deekin replied, then blinked and grinned at his revelation. "Ooh, Deekin gets it! You thinks Halaster gonna eats us?"

"Something along those lines, yes," Umbra said.

"But so long as Halaster is bound, the drow are going to keep coming out of the Underdark!" Nathyrra reminded.

"That be true, Boss," Deekin nodded.

"I'm still here, you ill-tempered beasts!" Halaster snapped. "Now get over here and proceed with my release!" Umbra turned to him as though to speak-then instead snapped him in the eye.

"It is impolite to interrupt," she informed curtly. Seeing the confused, indignant expression on Halaster's face as he rapidly blinked the offended eye, Deekin barely stifled a chuckle and made a quick note of it in his book.

"Nathyrra, where is the entrance to the Underdark?" Umbra asked.

"Just over there." Nathyrra pointed to an area of the cave just beyond Halaster. There, several dark, glistening stalks with knobby ends rose up out of the ground and curled over a tall, vaguely rectangular chunk of stone, which towered over a pulsating blue portal.

"Yeah, Deekin was wonderings about that," Deekin remarked.

"You said that one called the Valsharess was behind these attacks, did you not, Nathyrra?" Umbra remembered.

"Well, yes," Nathyrra started.

"Then someone of her power would likely find another way into Waterdeep, even if Halaster closed up this one, would she not?"

"Well, yes..."

"Then we must take our battle to the Valsharess directly," Umbra resolved. Nathyrra was evidently surprised, but pleasantly so.

"That would be perfect! You could aid in the rebels' cause!" Nathyrra cried eagerly.

"So this one shall," Umbra decided, then turned to the busily writing kobold at her side. "Will you help as well, Deekin?"

"You gots it, Boss!" he beamed. "Deekin not misses a trip to the Underdark with you for anything!"

"I'm getting rather tired over here," Halaster sighed. "Would you let an old man free, be a dear?"

"We really should let him go," Nathyrra posed.

"In good time," Umbra replied, wandering over the portal to the Underdark. Nathyrra and Deekin followed. "You say this is the entrance to the Underdark?"

"Yes," Nathyrra nodded. "But it leads directly to the Valsharess's army. You would be overwhelmed. To reach Lith My'athar, where the rebels are staying, and prepare an attack, we need to use this." Nathyrra pulled a necklace out of her collar. The necklace was attached to a brilliant blue gem surrounded by four sharp metal points.

"Ooh, neat," Deekin commented. "What be it?"

"It was created by the Seer, our leader," Nathyrra informed. "If combined with this portal's magics, it will take us directly to Lith My'athar."

"Then let us set off immediately," Umbra suggested.

"But Halaster-" Nathyrra pressed.

"Fine," Umbra relented, muttering a spell. Three glowing missiles of magic soared out of nowhere, each striking and breaking one of the enchanted tablets binding Halaster. The spell unwove itself, but Halaster still wavered, dazed.

"Now, while he is confused!" Umbra demanded quickly. Obediently, Nathyrra held the necklace's gem in her hands, stepped into the portal and had the other two do the same. The blue magics washed over them; when the blue cleared, the heroes were nowhere to be seen. Halaster shook himself fully awake, grinned diabolically. Mage-fire sprung from each of his hands.

"A-HA! Your doom is nigh, you dreadful-oh, bugger, where did they hide?" Halaster grumbled crossly, looking around. Two drow burst into the room then. Halaster easily struck them dead in their tracks with twin balls of mage-fire.

"Good enough," he smiled, and vanished to the upper levels.

* * *

The blue light overwhelmed Deekin's senses, temporarily disorienting him. The first thing he was aware of were a succession of panicked voices, ordering themselves as much as each other to protect someone called "the Seer". When the light dulled and his vision cleared, he was able to discern his surroundings acutely. The boss, the strange drow and he all stood in a small room of dark palette, with very little lighting, save for arcane blue torches lining the walls. Neither sunlight, moonlight nor starlight streamed through the windows. They truly were in the aptly named Underdark.

The three were surrounded by drow, though none in the red-and-black stuff of the Valsharess, instead garbed a gaudy array of blue and violet shades. Except, of course, for the drow woman before them, who was draped in a silver dress and had eyes that twinkled with age and compassion. The others had their weapons drawn and were arranged around her, eager to sacrifice their own lives rather than let any harm come to this woman. Umbra rested her hands on the hilts of her own weaponry. But before blood could spatter the shadowed walls, the solemn drow woman spoke harshly to her comrades.

"Do you not recognize one of our own?" the woman chided, stepping toward the new arrivals as the others parted to make way. "Nathyrra, you have returned."

"Malla Faerz'un'arr, it is good to see you once more," Nathyrra greeted with a cordial bow.

"And you," the other returned, looking past Nathyrra. "But I see you have returned with another... someone very important, indeed." Around the room, all eyes set upon Umbra with a sudden appreciation. All, that is, but for a single figure with green armor, pale skin and red hair, who sulked alone in the room's darkest corner. Deekin peered curiously at odd person, wondering what one so obviously not a drow would be doing here, but looked back to the respected drow woman as she spoke to his hero.

"You are most welcome here, Umbra," she said warmly. "I am the Seer. I have awaited your arrival with great anticipation. Please, come... do not be alarmed."

"The Seer?" Deekin repeated. "So you gots gift of forecast, and you sees us coming?"

"Indeed I did," the Seer verified kindly. Deekin smiled and decided he liked her. She reminded him of Daschnaya, an old halfling woman with prophetic

abilities he had caravanned across the Anauroch with. The Seer's gaze switched back over to Umbra, who was dead silent.

"I am curious," the Seer announced, "as to how you came to appear before us." Seeing Umbra's reluctance to speak better than the Seer herself, Nathyrra cut in.

"I believe I can answer that, Seer," she explained. "Umbra Lumina managed to free Halaster from the Valsharess, ending her efforts to use Undermountain as a base to launch her attacks on the surface. Beforehand, however, she agreed to help us in her cause." The Seer flashed Umbra a smile at this.

"I am glad you have come willingly to join us," she said. "As Nathyrra may have told you, we require your assistance."

"So this one has been told," Umbra avered. "What would you have of this one, drow?"

"It is important you know something of the Valsharess, if you are to help us against her," the Seer replied, turning to Nathyrra. "Nathyrra, if you would be so kind...?"

"Of course, Seer." Nathyrra bowed her head in acceptance, then stepped forward and began to speak. "The drow have ever been ruled by the Matron Mothers who head the great houses. The Valsharess was once one of these: ruthless and powerful in her art, but no more so than any other Matron Mother."

"Oooh, Deekin knows abouts this!" Deekin grinned. "Deekin reads aaaaall about it in book once-"

"But then Lolth, the Queen of Spiders and goddess of the drow, disappeared," Nathyrra resumed, "and drow society was thrown into utter chaos. The Valsharess seized on this opportunity."

"She summoned a powerful Duke of the Nine Hells, an archdevil she bound to her service," the Seer embellished. "Drawing on this enslaved devil's power, she became a conqueror of the Underdark. Once the Underdark is hers, she will turn her attention once more to the surface. She believes herself a Queen... a Valsharess, by our tongue... and her ambition knows no end."

"How she binds archdevil to her service?" Deekin queried, suddenly recalling the dream he'd had his last night in Waterdeep.

"That we do not know," the Seer grimaced. "Perhaps through some artifact or some long forgotten ritual. But whatever her methods, the results cannot be denied."

"The priestesses of Lolth are powerless before her," Nathyrra continued, "and the great drow houses have bent knee, just as many of the other Underdark races have been intimidated into joining her cause."

"So what," Umbra inquired, "do you propose we do now?" The Seer nodded slowly, appearing hesitant yet determined to continue.

"Yes, that is a good question. What are we to do now?" she sighed wearily, eyes focused on Umbra. "There is only one thing that I can do. I must put my faith in the goddess... and that means putting our faith in you. Our fate lies in your hands." At this, the mysterious green-armored figure stood up out of his corner and stepped out in the open. Deekin got out his notebook and began describing said man, eyes wide in astonishment.

The green-armored man had, as he'd previously noticed, pale skin and long red hair pulled back by a leather strip. What Deekin hadn't noticed were the two piercing blue eyes set in the man's head-or, more importantly, the long brown horns jutting out his forehead, or the arrow-pointed tail twitching behind him. His face bore the deep lines of one accustomed to scowling, but currently wore an expression of alarm.

"Are you sure, Seer? What do we really know about this..." The odd man studied Umbra carefully before going on. "This woman? She could be the death of us all!"

"Boss not be death of nobody but monsters," Deekin muttered crossly to himself, eyeing the horned man spitefully. The Seer held up a delicate hand, gently forestalling the red-haired speaker.

"Our lives are irrelevant, good Valen," she told him. "The Valsharess must be stopped at all costs, and Umbra is the key to stopping her."

"You know I don't believe in your ways, Seer," the one called Valen frowned stubbornly. "I won't throw away my life by blindly following anyone, and I don't think anyone here should, either." He looked around the room hopefully, but all the drow seemed to agree with the Seer.

"You have saved us more times than I can count, Valen," she acknowledged. "But the army of the Valsharess will soon march against us, and even your great skill in battle will not be enough to save us." Valen scowled.

"I'm willing to defer to your judgment for now, Seer," he said. "But what makes you think this stranger can stop the army of the Valsharess?" The Seer turned to face Umbra.

"Umbra, I know you are a sorceress and fighter of great power," she noted. "But you are so much more than this. You alone can save us from the Valsharess."

"This one is not certain she understands," Umbra replied. "What is it you expect this one to do?"

"All the drow here in Lith My'athar will stand against the Valsharess," the Seer began. "She is the one enemy common to us all. But even our united strength will not be able to defeat her massive army. Our only hope is for you to find some way to strengthen our forces, or to weaken the Valsharess and her allies. Nathyrra can help you with this."

"I can give you information on the Valsharess's allies and where to find them," Nathyrra nodded. "Perhaps we might consider striking at her through her friends-"

"I can also help you, Umbra," Valen cut in hastily.

"This one was under the impression you did not trust her," Umbra replied.

"I haven't set aside my suspicions yet," Valen said pointedly. "But if you are truly the savior the Seer thinks you are, then I'm willing to give you a chance to prove it." Deekin's brow furrowed. He knew better; Valen just wanted to stay close and keep an eye on Umbra, to make sure she didn't do anything wretched.

"So it appears you are not alone in this, Umbra," the Seer smiled. "Nathyrra and Valen will help you. They know much about the Underdark and the Valsharess-do not be afraid to ask them for help. Hopefully, you can find a way to strengthen our own forces-or weaken the Valsharess-before her army descends upon us all."

"This one shall do as seems best," Umbra returned.

"I'm sure you will," the Seer nodded. "But for now, you should rest. In the back of the temple-" so this was a temple, Deekin thought "-we; have some beds." She gestured to two short flights of stairs in the rear of the room, each leading up through a door into a room beyond.

"Oh, good," Deekin commented with a yawn. "Deekin be getting sleepy." Perhaps it was just the dark, but he was getting drowsy. It had been a long day-or perhaps two days, he hadn't kept track.

"Then we shall take you up on your offer and meet you in the morn," Umbra accepted, patting Deekin gently on the shoulder. "Go ahead, friend. This one shall join you soon."

"Okays, Boss," the kobold smiled loyally, starting up the steps to the door to his right. Valen strode over and stopped him.

"Other door, kobold," Valen said brusquely. "This would be the door to the ladies' room."

"Oh." Deekin quickly amended his mistake and took the left door. Beyond it, sure enough was a surprisingly long room built of the same dark materials as the previous, filled with rows of red-blanketed beds. Deekin made for the one nearest him, but was halted yet again by Valen, who had followed him in.

"This bed has been taken," Valen informed curtly, and pointed far across the room to another. "You can take that one." Deekin obediently ambled over to that bed.

"The one next to it," Valen called. Somewhat peeved, Deekin went over to the next.

"I meant the _other_ one," Valen corrected again. Grumbling, Deekin went over to that one. "Perfect." With a relieved sigh, Deekin scrambled on top and removed his pack, setting it down by the bedside. Pulling back the covers revealed a sallow lump of a pillow, but considering most nights he went without a pillow at all, it looked heavenly to Deekin. Crawling under the blanket, he laid his head down on the pillow and closed his eyes. Despite his fatigue, however, he was unable to drift off. How could he? He was in the Underdark, for the love of Kurtulmak! The place of dark and mystery, of beasts unknown, of the infamous drow! They were going up a powerful queen and her diabolical thrall! It was as thrilling as it was terrifying, though the terror aspect was significantly lessened by the knowledge that his much-adored Boss.

Deekin found himself pulling his writing supplies out of his pack and writing obsessively about all of this, heart thudding excitedly in his chest. Nothing could dampen his spirits! Nothing-

The blue torch overhead that had been lighting the pages prior suddenly went out. Even a keen-eyed kobold needs some light to write by; looking up to see what had quelled it, he saw Valen standing over him.

"Uhh, you minds lighting torch back up?" Deekin implored.

"It's time for bed," Valen said firmly, sweeping an arm toward all the other beds, which were now occupied by sleeping drow. "No one can sleep with the light on."

"They looks pretty asleep to Deekin," Deekin replied, scrutinizing the room's other occupants. Valen only glared, his tail switching irritably, eyes red as rubies. Was it just Deekin, or had they been blue a moment ago?

"Or, uh, Deekin could just..." He slipped the notebook and quill back into his pack and smiled up at Valen compliantly. "Sleeps." Valen's eyes flickered back to a safe sapphire blue. Satisfied, he strode down the row and climbed into bed himself.

By a suspicious coincidence, it was the same bed Deekin had first chosen.

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(Chapter Seven should be up fairly soon, now that Valen's been introduced.) 


	7. Into the Wild Dark Yonder

(A/N: Again, sorry for the delay and thanks for all the reviews! As you'll notice in this chapter, Cavallas and the Reaper have both been cut out of the story. This is mostly because they contribute nothing plotwise, but also because a story can only have so many mysterious hooded figures. "Artistic license" is my middle name.

Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights does not belong to a fuzzy caterpillar hiding under a leaf in Spain, nor does it belong to me.)

* * *

Chapter Seven

Deekin dozed off eventually, images of the day flying through his mind in warped dream incarnate. When slumber dissipated and his eyes slid open, they were met with the darkness usual to this place. It took him a few moments to make sense of that which hovered over him.

"Boss? That be you?" he muttered uncertainly, thinking his bleary eyes and waking mind were coming together to play tricks on him. A long black finger pressed up against his snout told him otherwise.

"This one is none other," Umbra responded quietly.

"Umm... how long you be standings there?" he puzzled, blinking and sitting up with a mild stretch to renew his tendons.

"...not long," she said at last.

"Deekin happy to sees you, Boss," he said, "don't gets Deekin wrong. But... Deekin not thinks you supposed to be in here."

"So they said," she replied. "But this one sees no reason that should be."

"Yeah, Deekin guesses," he replied, though a little shaken by the sudden appearance. Looking around, he saw that the room's other occupants were still asleep. "How long Deekin be sleepings?"

"Six hours, perhaps seven," Umbra answered easily, making Deekin really wonder how long she'd been standing over him after all.

"You can't sleeps, Boss?" he guessed.

"This one cannot," she affirmed. Deekin stretched again, slipped off the bed and worked the straps of his pack and lute-which he had remembered to remove shortly before falling asleep-back over his shoulders. He started to strum the lute's strings to make sure they were in fine condition, then remembered the need for silence and stopped himself. Looking up at Umbra, he asked with a grin, "Since we be awakes anyway, Boss, you wants to go explores drow place, maybes?"

"That settles with this one," Umbra responded, and began to walk away, expecting him to follow. It always amazed Deekin how silently his Boss could move when she wanted to. He went as quietly as he could, but with each stel his toenails met the floor with a resounding clatter. Fortunately, the noise that boomed for the unwary kobold failed to rouse any of the drow.

At last they neared the door, by which Valen slept. The horned man's pointed ear twitched; Deekin froze in his tracks, seeing a glimmer of blue past slightly parted eyelids. Umbra opened the door and ushered Deekin through before he could stall any longer.

The temple was mostly empty, but for a single silver-dressed figure knelt down in its center, hands clasped and head bowed down. Finishing her prayers, the Seer moved to her knees and turned around to face them.

"Did you sleep well?" she quested. If she knew that Umbra had entered the males' sleeping chambers, she wasn't fazed by it.

"Yep, bed was really soft," Deekin nodded. "Deekin was very comfy. Boss couldn't sleeps, though." The Seer looked at her with concern.

"I am sorry to hear that," she apologized.

"Do not be," Umbra assured quickly. "This one is merely... excited, is all." The Seer smiled and nodded at this.

"I can understand that." She looked behind her, at the door presumably leading out of the temple. "I take it you're leaving now. I recommend that you speak with Commander Imloth first. He trains our troops, and can tell you that which must be done." The Seer knelt back down and clasped her hands again. "Now, I must return to praying to Eilistraee for guidance."

"Eilistraee?" Deekin repeated. "Deekin reads abouts her! She be nice drow goddess that flies around nak-"

"Indeed," the Seer interrupted. "Eilistraee has gifted me with the visions that have aided her followers. It was she who told me that Umbra Lumina would be coming."

"Oooh." Deekin grabbed his notebook and scribbled this detail down as Umbra opened the far door. A burst of-not fresh, but different air flowed in, indicating that it did lead outside.

"Come now," Umbra asked, striding out as Deekin dedicatedly followed.

The area outside the temple was an incredibly vast cavern, stalagmites poking up hither and thither, stalactites dripping slime from above; but what caught one's attention was the city built there. Black buildings rose up out of the rocky ground, warped and twisted, of odd drow make. Drow themselves rounded the corners, talking to each other in their own tongue. Gray-skinned merchants sold wares from purple-canopied bazaar stands; brown-haired, cattle-like beasts called deep rothes crowded together in small pens; the hubbub of subterranean life echoed throughout the place.

"We is really in Underdark," Deekin gaped in awe as it really sank in. "We is really, _really_ in Underdark! This be wonderful!" Deekin ran around on the spot, waving his hands in the air excitedly. "Deekin read _so_ much about Underdark, now Deekin actually be _here!_ This be so good for Deekin's book! 'Epic hero goes to the deadly Underdark'! Sequel be greatest book ever!" Umbra was notoriously quiet as Deekin revered this change in their journey. At last, the kobold stopped to notice his hero's silence.

"What be wrong, Boss?" he queried.

"This one is not so happy to be here as you are, friend," Umbra shrugged.

"You not be happy?" Deekin's tone was incredulous, and he stared at her as if she had suddenly turned into a green ape. "Why you be not happy?"

"It is dark here," replied Umbra.

"But you comes from place even darker than this," Deekin reminded.

"Darkness is to this one as sleep is to a narcoleptic," Umbra explained. "Relieving, familiar and dreaded. Better to suffer the pain of light than return to the oblivion of dark." Deekin wasn't quite sure what to say to this; but that was fine, as Umbra then added, "We are to find Commander Imloth. Let us continue on."

"Okay, Boss," Deekin accepted, writing in his notebook before doing so. It always amazed him how, no matter how much he wrote, he was always leaving something out.

They passed several domed black houses, displaying all sorts of odd, spider-like designs carved or impressed in silvery inlay, which gave Deekin plenty to write about. The drow they passed muttered foreign words and made strange signs, which most likely meant something crude. Fortunately, neither kobold nor cowled figure seemed to notice. Eventually, they passed into the bazaar district. Deekin wondered what sort of wares these merchants might possess, but hadn't the time to ask. Near one of the purple-canopied stands, a group of drow gibbered to each other.

"Mayhaps they could inform us of Imloth's whereabouts," Umbra suggested, candidly striding over. The drow barely looked up as she and her henchman approached; apparently, they were busy quarreling. Deekin also realized that what he had taken to be a shop stand, in fact was a small bar. The bartender behind the slim, dark counter seemed oblivious to the squabble, scrubbing away at a tiny speck on the countertop; no doubt he was used to such, and knew better than to get involved in his patrons' arguments, for the sake of keeping business coming. There were obviously two opposing sides; one pacific and dressed in humble rags, the other harsh and garbed in richer stuff, with a few drow or so for each side.

"Look at these pathetic Eilistraee scum," scoffed a well-dressed one, with gaunt cheeks and fleshy lips. "I have no idea why Matron Myrune has thrown our lot in with them." From what Deekin had gathered from the talk of passersby, Matron Myrune was a prominent figure in the politics of this place. Perhaps a ruler, even.

"Just ignore them," a sallow-faced pacifist encouraged his fellows. "Eilistraee teaches us tolerance and acceptance even in the face of hate."

"Listen to those cowards," a finely attired drow snorted, green lights emanating down his wrists and encompassing his fisted hands. "There's no way an army full of their type will ever stop the Valsharess! I say we teach these worms a lesson!"

"Oh-oh, Boss," Deekin remarked, writing once again, unsurprisingly enough. "Looks like somebody is spoiling for a fight." At these words, one of the followers of Eilistraee noticed Umbra standing nearby. Gesturing toward her with confidence, he said, "We have faith in the Seer's vision. The Valsharess will fall. Umbra Lumina here will guide us to victory."

"Is that so?" one rioter smirked. "Well, surfacer... any advice on how we can win a war when you're stuck with a bunch of pacifists like the followers of Eilistraee on your side?"

"You might ask the man hiding not ten yards behind this one," Umbra replied simply. Instantly, all eyes darted beyond Umbra, save for Umbra's own. Sure enough, a telltale barbed tail waved cautiously from behind one of the stands. Hearing of his discovery, Valen wandered out, pale face somewhat flushed, though he quickly covered his embarrassment with a grimace.

"I was just-" Valen started indignantly.

"Spying," Umbra finished. "Yes, this one has known for the last... well, ever since you left the temple in that ungainly armor of yours. A metal golem would do better to conceal itself." The opposing drow temporarily forgot their feud and chuckled to themselves, earning a burning red glare from Valen that sufficiently caused them to scatter.

"I'll have you know," Valen refuted stiffly, "that I was _not_ spying. I just..."

"You loses a coin?" Deekin suggested, delighting in Valen's lost pride. It served him right for being suspicious of the Boss.

"...no," Valen said. "I was-"

"Goings to buys some strawberry jams?" Deekin tried again, ever chipper.

"...yes, that," Valen sighed, realizing he wasn't going to get a better excuse than that. Though expressionless as ever, Umbra was clearly not buying it.

"It is fortunate you followed us, at any rate," Umbra dismissed. "You can take us to Commander Imloth."

"Why Commander Imloth?" Valen questioned, raising a dark streak of an eyebrow, which stood out in comparison to his head of scarlet hair.

"Well, paying him a visit would be quite unnecessary if you were to tell us what we are to do," Umbra supposed. "Your Seer said something of weakening the Valsharess's forces, this one recalls."

"Of course," he accepted. "The Valsharess commands a massive army, and it's not just the drow who follow her. She's recruited all sorts of Underdark creatures to her cause: beholders, illithid and even the undead. The Seer was thinking that you could weaken their forces by killing off, or dealing with their leaders."

"Understood," Umbra said. "Where are they to be found?"

"We are uncertain of their exact coordinates," Valen shrugged. "To be honest, we've been more preoccupied with keeping the Valsharess's forces at bay than tracking them down. They lie somewhere in the vast wilderness to the west... we know that much."

"You calls caves wilderness?" Deekin piped. "Deekin grows up in caves, and kobolds never calls them wilderness. They never says 'Deekin, go into that wilderness over there and gets me mushrooms'."

"The Underdark is very different from the caves of your youth, I think you'll find," Valen said heatedly. He wasn't one to appreciate being interrupted.

"Deekin knows that," Deekin acknowledged, doodling an unflattering caricature of Valen on a spare page of his notebook.

"Perhaps it would be best if you came with us, Valen," Umbra offered. Deekin froze in the middle of drawing the cartoon Valen a snake tongue. The real Valen put a hand on his chin and looked Umbra over, sizing her up. This act caused Deekin to bristle.

"The Seer believes you are our prophetical savior," he remarked, "our only hope of defeating the Valsharess. I, however, do not believe in prophecies. Still, you are obviously capable in your own right. And we need all the help we can get if we are to win this war. So I'm willing to take a chance."

"We are all on the same side, Valen," Umbra assured him.

"Yes, we are," Valen responded. "Which is why I'm willing to help you, despite the fact that I know nothing about you. Hopefully you'll prove that the Seer's faith in you is justified."

"It be more than justified," Deekin retorted indignantly, though Valen ignored him. The way his luminous blue eyes were trained on Umbra was making Deekin increasingly uneasy.

"Provide your answer now or not at all," Umbra commanded. "Will you join us?" Valen considered her request for a long time before making his reply. "I don't believe in the Seer's dreams, Umbra... though I do believe you want to stop the Valsharess." Valen nodded. "Yes, I think it would be to everyone's advantage if we were to join forces."

"Then so be it," Umbra said. "Take us out of the city, and our journey shall begin at once."

"It might be a wise idea to eat first," Valen proposed, gesturing to a stand nearby that appeared to sell food.

"Oh... of course," Umbra replied. "This one hungers not, though. Might you not take Deekin with you to eat?"

"...fine," Valen said reluctantly, walking toward the food stand. "Come on, kobold."

"Deekin coming, Deekin coming," Deekin answered, shading in the Valen caricature's snakelike pupils and hurrying after, casting Umbra a curious look as he went. She only stood there, no trace of emotion ever coming over her face. Sometimes he wished she would show what she was feeling... just a little.

The drow man at the food stand appeared to have sampled more than a few of his own wares, judging by his rotund nature. He scrutinized Deekin carefully, but looked up at Valen's approach brightly.

"Welcome, Valen," he greeted. "What'll you have?"

"Something that isn't alive this time, thanks," Valen said with a pinch of disgust.

"I'll let you choose for yourself," the drow decided, flipping over the top of the bar to reveal a hollow interior. Stacked in rows within were a series of small clay pots, each filled with some manner of dark, slimy substance, some of which slopped over the sides as if though they were, indeed, alive. With some disdain, Valen selected the most inanimate and laid a solitary gold coin in the drow's waiting palm.

"Which one should Deekin gets?" Deekin wondered. "They all looks so good!" Kobolds were not, and are still not finicky creatures.

"Uh... whichever one looks best," Valen muttered, reluctantly sipping liquid out of the clay pot with a look of mild revulsion.

"Well, I recommend the rothe headcheese stained with beetle sauce, myself," the drow chef informed helpfully, holding up a pot of the stuff.

"Deekin takes that, then," Deekin decided, digging a gold coin out of a small pouch on his belt and exchanging it for the small pot of rothe innards. Valen shot him a look of disbelief, but the kobold was too busy downing the odd concoction to notice.

"That tastes better than Deekin expects!" he commented brightly to the drow chef after the first slurp. "Especially the beetle sauce... just like Deekin's momma used to makes! How you does it?"

"Ancient ilythiiri secret," the chef said solemnly as Deekin polished the brew off and left to rejoin Umbra. To his regret, Valen had already beat him there.

"Have you had your fill?" Umbra quested.

"Yep, Deekin full," the Deekin nodded.

"Then we are ready to set off, are we not?" Umbra asked.

"We be," Deekin said quickly, cutting Valen off. The tiefling's tail swished impatiently, but his eyes remained a cerulean shade.

"The gates out of the city are this way," he announced, bidding them follow him out of the bazaar and past the rothe pens. Deekin trod nearer the pens than the others as they passed, and reached a wary hand out to one of the hairy beasts, which sneezed a wad of mucus at him in response. Deciding against petting the rothes, Deekin kept on dutifully, writing something in his notebook.

As mentioned earlier, Lith My'athar was contained in a large cavern. Valen, Umbra and Deekin were now approaching one of said cavern's slimy sides, in which was set a large double door, woven of ornate, snaking lengths of metal. It gave it the impression of a lattice overgrown with vines-a nice touch, since vines couldn't actually grow in a place so lacking in sunlight. Valen unclasped a small handle that kept the two double door's halves together, letting them swing inward gracefully. Behind him, the two followed without question into a second cave, almost as large as the first.

In this cave, two buildings had been carved out of rock. On closer inspection, they were part of a fortress meant to keep out invaders, the gap between them closed with an immense double-door mirroring the one they had just come out through. Only a few drow were in sight, the other likely hidden away in the fortress keeping an eye out for invaders, but those that were in view were clothed in regal-looking armor. One drow with a more elegent suit than the rest came up to see them.

"Greetings, Sergeant Osyyr," Valen said.

"And you, Valen," the drow nodded. "This must be Umbra Lumina?"

"And her loyal kobold companion," Deekin added.

"Yes, that is this one," Umbra avered.

"We seek exit out of Lith My'athar," Valen told Osyyr. "Might you open the gates?"

"Of course," Osyyr replied, and shouted out some Drowish commands. The whirring of gears echoed from within the fortress, and the doors obediently parted.

"Thanks," Valen said, walking toward the newly opened exit.

"Just be careful out there," replied the Sergeant as the threesome left.

The gates shut behind them with a resounding clatter. Deekin gritted his tiny teeth at the sound, then perked up with a smile and scratched something down in his notebook.

"As the gates closed shut, the great hero and her intrepid kobold companion-oh, and the mean goat man..."

"I am NOT a goat man," Valen cut in indignantly, looking over Deekin at his notebook easily. Deekin yelped and hid the book, shooting Valen a glare.

"No looks at Deekin's epic tale before it be ready, mean goat man!"

"I'm not a goat man! I'm a tiefling! Half demon, half human!" Valen fumed, tail lashing the air. The fact that the tiefling in question was Valen lessened Deekin appreciation of meeting something so foreign.

"But you _is_ mean," Deekin retorted, sticking out a slim reptilian tongue defiantly and hiding his face behind his notebook as Valen's eyes blazed red.

"Stay your tongues!" Umbra snapped, stepping between them. "We are to defeat a drow wench and her fiendish pet. How are we to do that if we stand about and squabble?" Valen looked away angrily. Deekin resisted the temptation to make a face and looked at the ground.

"Sorries, Boss," the kobold apologized-sorry for upsetting her, that is. Maybe it was because he'd never had to share Umbra with anyone else before, but something made Deekin really dislike having Valen travel with them.

"Valen, lead the way," Umbra commanded. "Deekin, resume writing." Though livid at being insulted by a kobold _and_ ordered by a stranger, Valen stifled his anger and turned about, starting forward.

"Of course... this way." The cave tapered off into a dank tunnel beyond the gate. It wasn't long walking before they were plunged into darkness-which was quickly diffused by clumps of luminous blue mushrooms. Deekin made a note of them in his epic tale with a great deal of intrigue.

"Nothing like this ever grows back in kobold caves," he remarked with wonder. "Deekin never sees anything likes them. How abouts you, Boss?" He paused, getting no reply, and looked up. Umbra hadn't heard him because she was already talking to Valen. Forgetting the mushrooms entirely, Deekin instead began transcribing their conversation.

"What is it you wish to know?" Umbra was asking the tiefling. Valen regarded her with his intense blue eyes, his gaze seeming to bore into her as he considered his words carefully.

"I wish to know," he began, "what makes you so special?" Maybe it because he was hearing it out of context, but Deekin's jaw dropped at this question. The pen in his hand nearly dropped as well, but fortunately it didn't, and he kept writing.

"What do you mean?" Umbra asked, perplexed.

"I speak, of course, of the fact that you have replaced me as the leader of our forces. I have kept us alive for months, and suddenly you appear," Valen made a slash with his hand, "and it is over." Valen had been leader of the rebel forces? Well, his stringent expression did bring to mind that of a strict war general, Deekin thought.

"According to your Seer," Umbra responded sensibly, "this one is the one that can win." Valen was silent for a long minute, seemingly troubled by his thoughts. Deekin's eyes narrowed despite himself.

"The Seer believes what she believes," Valen shrugged. "Her goddess leads and she follows without question, and this has been enough... so far."

"This one fights for her own reasons," Umbra reminded him. "And this one shall continue to fight, no matter what you or your Seer think." Deekin grinned and nodded, immensely proud of his Boss's skill and determination.

"Is that so?" Valen regarded her with interest. "You sound quite confident. Some might call that bravado, I think, considering what we face." Valen scratched his head, fingers moving around the horns and through the crimson hair. "I believe that the Seer has visions. I believe it may even be that her goddess sends them. I am a being of the planes, however, and I ascribe no infallibility to gods and goddesses. The Seer believes that you will lead us to victory, but nothing is said of what such a victory might cost us." He looked at Umbra pointedly once more. "Some costs, I think, are too high."

"Meaning what?" Umbra prompted, sounding not nearly as offended as Deekin was at this insinuation.

"Meaning that the Seer assumes that you are here to help us," Valen said, face stern. "I make no such assumption." He was past insinuations now. His stare was intense. "I have led these people through every danger so far and kept the Seer safe throughout. I won't see them betrayed." A tense silence permeated the air, broken only by the busy scratching on Deekin's pen. At last, Umbra spoke.

"This one admires your dedication," she said. Deekin tripped over a rock.

"Thank you." Valen's stance did not soften. "But that is why I must have an answer on this."

"What would you have of this one, Valen?" Umbra quested. "Her word she would not betray you?"

Valen regarded her with an arched brow. "Would you give it?" Umbra was pensively quiet.

"Would you?" she asked. Valen was taken aback.

"What do you mean?" he wondered.

"We are on the same side," Umbra answered. "This one is willing to be a faithful ally... granted she can expect the same support from you, rather than the resentful suspicion you have shown. Do you give your word, Valen?" It was Valen's turn to be quiet.

"Yes," he said at last.

"Yes," Umbra repeated. This moment was a little too tender for the kobold's taste.

"No!" Deekin muttered. The other two looked back at him, their conversation over. Deekin froze.

"Uhh... Oh! Deekin stubs toe!" he amended quickly, balancing on one foot. "Bad Underdark rocks! Bad!" Valen rolled his eyes and turned them back to the path ahead, but he could feel Umbra's unseen gaze clinging to him for a time before doing the same. Deekin exhaled at the unwatched relief and added the last notes to his epic tale. Still, he felt... jealous. He shook his head and scolded himself. There was nothing to be jealous of... right?

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(Please review! I live in a shoe! Wait, no I don't.) 


	8. Giant Jelly Cubes

(A/N: Sorry about the nearly month-long delay, but during this chapter I was hit with the worst bout of writer's block I've ever encountered. I tell ya, it was a doozy; I almost considered dropping the fic, but fortunately got rid of a major source of stress and regained my writing abilities, and my sense, before I did. I also owe a lot to the "Clash of the Shadows" fic, which inspired me to write about the Underdark. Go read it, you'll like it! Thanks a lot to all of you who keep reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Neverwinter Nights. I don't own Neverwinter Nights. I don't own Neverwinter Nights. You get the idea.)

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Chapter Eight

"Deekin, are you alright?"

"Huh?" Deekin looked up from his notebook abruptly. Umbra stood in front of him, walking backward smoothly. He nodded. "Yeah, Deekin be okay, Boss. Why you asks?"

"You have been silent this whole time," she answered. "It is unlike you."

"Doesn't surprise me," Valen called back. For an instant, Deekin had almost forgotten he was there; he cringed at the reminder, then beamed up at Umbra.

"Oh, Deekin just thinkings, Boss," he smiled assuredly. "That be all."

"If you are certain." She turned back around and fell into step beside Deekin, much to his delight. This delight deflated when Valen decided to shout, "We're here."

"Where are we?" Umbra asked curiously, darting ahead, robe flitting undisturbed over the ground. Deekin sighed and skittered over as well. Upon reaching Valen, Deekin saw that they had reached the end of the tunnel. Momentarily forgetting his peevishness, he looked out in astonishment.

"Oooh," he said, impressed. The tunnel led out into a cave, proportioned gigantic beyond anything Deekin could have imagined. The cavern stretched out for miles in all directions-it was like a subterranean plane, but with stalactites instead of clouds, stalagmites rather than grass, harsh rock elevations jutting sharply out of the ground in place of gentle, softly lolling hillocks, and spongy mushrooms substituting sprays of flowers. The spores created much the same effect as pollen, though, Deekin noted with a sneeze as he scribbled all this down in his book cheerfully. "This place be SO NEAT!"

"Do you treat every situation with such gusto, kobold?" Valen asked dryly.

"If Deekin can writes about it," he replied with a nod, barely looking up from his writing. Dotting the last sentence, he looked up at Umbra with a wide grin.

"We is in Underdark, Boss!" he beamed.

"Brilliant deduction," Valen muttered.

Ignoring him, Deekin went on, "You know what be perfect right now, for time like this?"

"This one suspects she knows," Umbra verified wryly.

"What?" Valen wondered, curious despite himself.

"The Doom Song!" Deekin answered, insanely chipper as he tuned his lute.

"'Doom Song'?" Valen repeated, perplexed. "What is a 'Doom So-'"

"DOOOOOOOOOM! DOOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOOOOOM! DOOM! DOOM DOOM DOOOOOOMMM! DOOMITY DOOMITY DOOMITY DOOMITY DOOOOOOOOM DOOM DOOM-" the kobold screeched joyfully, raking his fingers across the lute's strings haphazardly, feet stepping and tail wagging in tune... sort of.

"STOP!" Valen cut in desperately, eyes wide. "Please... stop."

"Deekin not finishes," Deekin sniffed indignantly, then grinned and resumed playing. "DOOMITY DOOMITY DOOMITY DOOM! WE IS AAAAAAAAALLL DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMED!" He stopped and looked back up at Valen. "There. NOW Deekin finished. Wait... DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOOM DOOOOOOMMM! Okay, now Deekin finished. You wants to says something?"

"No, nothing at all," Valen decided, shaking his head. "Let's just... keep moving."

"Sounds good to Deekin!" the kobold agreed. And so the group moved on.

Deekin wrote incessantly, clawed feet clutching the slick rock ground tightly with each step. He stopped periodically to critically inspect what he had already written, or wipe away a drop of slime that had fallen on the page from a stalactite above. In this dark, it would have been impossible for a human to write; it was times like this he was glad to be a kobold.

He looked up at Umbra to smile, but saw she had gone ahead again. Valen walked by her side, tail switching with each step. Even without his horns, he was slightly taller than Umbra. Deekin blinked, realizing that he'd actually never seen Umbra encounter anyone taller than her before-except for the occasional monster, of course. And that half-orc back in the Anauroch, but he hardly counted. It wouldn't have mattered so much... but in every good romance tale he'd ever read, the "fair, graceful maiden" had been swept up in the arms of a "strong, handsome fellow"...

Deekin gave the two figures ahead of him another look. Umbra's stride was unerringly smooth, never stumbling, never tripping. Certainly, she was very graceful, and in his eyes she was the most beautiful maiden he'd ever seen (though truth be told, most would have found the cowled one plain). His gaze then switched to Valen. Even under all that armor, it was apparent the tiefling was quite strong, and he did have a masculine, determined look befitting of a handsome hero. He could easily lift Umbra off her feet, hold her in his arms, lean in and...

A loud _crack _broke Deekin's thoughts. His tight grip had snapped his quill in half. Thankful for the spares in his pack, he dropped the broken quill halves to the ground and pulled one out. Heart pounding as he forced these ridiculous notions of Valen... and Umbra... out of his head, he saw that he had accidentally scrawled a long, jagged line on the page. Thinking how to amend it, he decided it would be best to ignore the line altogether. If the publisher pointed it out, Deekin could say he'd been attacked by a gibbering mouther in the middle of writing. And if the publisher wondered where the gibbering mouther had come from... well, Deekin could think of a better excuse by then.

The Underdark was a much larger place than Deekin had anticipated. They had been walking for hours on end-stopping occasionally when Deekin needed rest, of course-and were still going. During this time, Umbra flitted back and forth between staying at Deekin's side and striding at the front. She had always done this, but it hadn't gotten to the kobold until now. Valen, meanwhile, developed a habit of a walking in line with Umbra, which irritated Deekin to no end. Umbra barely spoke, and as usual her face showed no trace of emotion, so it was impossible to tell what she tell what she thought of this.

The silence was getting unbearable, penetrated only by the squeaks of overhead bats and disturbing noises in the distance, which Deekin guessed were natural to this place. Umbra was one lent to being quiet, and all Valen did was glare. Of course, Deekin piped up with the Doom Song every now and then, but was quickly silenced by a dirty look from Valen. Initiating a conversation with the tiefling was out of the question, and for some reason, every time Deekin tried to say something to Umbra his tongue fell limp and his stomach tightened. He made the occasional witty remark on the nature of the Underdark as he saw it, but despite her encouragement Umbra never laughed, and Deekin doubted the tiefling had an ounce of humor in his entire being. Eventually, he was reduced to tediously tuning his lute and doodling boils and pockmarks on Valen's caricature. For all the tales told of it, the Underdark was just one big cave, and it got boring quickly.

Deekin's eyes were glued to the pages of his book as he doodled. So far as doodling was concerned, this was fine; however, adventuring demands one's full attention. It is no surprise, then, that Deekin did not notice the hole right in front of him. Umbra and Valen had thought nothing of stepping over it, and did not think to mention it to the preoccupied, short-legged kobold following behind them. With a surprised yelp, he fell right down it.

"Deekin!" Umbra cried, rushing over to the hole and dropping down it without a second thought. Valen's eyes widened in surprise as he ran over, too late.

"What are you-NO! DON'T-augh!" Valen gritted his teeth in frustration, peering down the hole and yanking a heavy flail out of a weaponholder around his waist. "I hope the Seer's right about you..." So saying, down the hole he went. Valen and Umbra had anticipated the fall and landed swiftly. Deekin, on the other hand, had tumbled in unexpectedly and was not so lucky.

"Oooww, Deekin's head," the kobold groaned, getting up slowly despite the protests of his groaning joints. The floor beneath him was hard and slick, but he had survived the fall without breaking anything. A narrow tunnel extended ahead, lined with luminescent blue mushrooms. He tried to discern what lay further down it, but his head was throbbing. Fortunately, the cool caress of Umbra's hand soon soothed it.

"Are you alright, friend?" Umbra asked.

"Deekin be okay," he affirmed, smiling up at Umbra's expressionless dark face fondly.

"You're both fools," Valen broke in; Deekin frowned upon realizing he was there. "You have no idea what kinds of things lurk in the shadows of the Underdark!"

"Deekin gots some idea," the kobold argued. "He reads lots of books abouts Underdark."

"And this one is no stranger to the shadows," Umbra added.

"The Underdark is far from predictable," Valen insisted irritably. "Even to those who live in it! For all you know, we could have fallen right into the trap of a-"

"GIANT JELLY CUBE!" Deekin shrieked excitedly, forgetting his injuries and darting off down the passage. "Deekin not tastes one in ages, they be so sweet!"

"NO! THAT'S NOT-" Valen paused. "On second thought... it's lime-flavored." Luckily for Deekin, Umbra didn't buy it, darting ahead and standing in front of him before he could reach the pulsating giant square of green stuff down the passage.

"Deekin," Umbra said tentatively, "perhaps this one is naive, but do jelly cubes normally move?"

"They jiggles," Deekin offered.

"This jelly cube does more than jiggle, this one can assure you," Umbra replied, stepping aside to afford Deekin a view of the large square, which was sloshing down the passage toward them. It was definitely alive, and probably wasn't friendly-more than a few humanoid skeletons were suspended in its transparent innards.

"Oh, heh heh," Deekin grinned bashfully. "Deekin hits head harder than he thinks, he guesses." Getting closer, the jelly cube attempted to absorb Umbra, who quickly drew a sword and plunged it into the thing.

"NOOO-" cried Enserric, but was cut off as the gelatinous cube sucked him in.

"...this one shall not try that again," Umbra resolved quietly. Deekin's headache eased up and, thinking quickly, he cast an ice spell. A wave of cold passed over the cube, turning it entirely to ice. Valen came rushing up then, bringing his flail down full-force on the frozen cube and causing it to shatter into innumerable pieces.

"Ye GODS!" Enserric sputtered, poking out of a green ice chunk and shivering excitedly. "That was horribly unpleasant, and believe you me, I know unpleasant! What a squishy, revolting thing to be trapped in! And I think it started to, ugh, _digest_ me... tell me, does my blade look tarnished to you?"

"Your blade looks fine," Umbra assured him, grabbing him by the hilt and sliding him into a scabbard, then turning around to face Deekin and Valen. "Are you two alright?"

"Deekin be okay," Deekin nodded.

"I'm just fine," said Valen, shooting a glare at Deekin, "but from now on, kobold, don't try to eat the first thing you lay eyes on."

"It not Deekin's fault Underdark monsters looks like food," the kobold shrugged, writing in his notebook and reading aloud as he started forward. "'And so the kobold companion discovered that Underdark monsters aren't all they're cracked up to BEEE-'" Without warning, his legs went out from under him and he landed flat on his back in a strange, slick substance.

"Ah, yes," Valen smiled, tail waving smugly. "I probably should have mentioned the slime trails gelatinous cubes are prone to leaving." Sure enough, Deekin had slipped in a long trail of slime leading off down the passage from the cube's icy remains. Bunching his leg muscles, Valen easily leapt over a large swath of slime. With a smirk, he took a step forward-and promptly slipped. The combined look of shock and wounded pride on his face was sufficient to make Deekin burst into laughter. Valen scowled, then chuckled a little when Deekin made to stand up and slipped again.

Valen and Deekin finally got to their feet and tried to walk carefully to the side of the slime trail. This proved difficult, if not impossible, for the humongous gelatinous cube had stretched from wall-to-wall of the passage. By crouching down and clinging to the walls, however, they managed to make it down the passage without falling again, and finally the tunnel widened out until the cube had had enough berth that the walls hadn't touched its slimy being, and Deekin and Valen trod on opposite sides of the slime trail. Umbra, meanwhile, didn't seem to have any trouble at all. Deekin attributed this to her grace, and thought nothing of it.

"How do we get out of here?" Umbra wondered.

"Just keep going and hope we find a way out," Valen answered with a shrug.

"Anyone ever tells you you gots six fingers, mean goat man?" Deekin asked suddenly, carefully inspecting the extra digits on each hand. Valen quickly hid his hand from Deekin's line of sight and glared at him.

"It's a trait common to tieflings," Valen informed coldly. "Did anyone ever tell you you're extremely annoying?"

"Lots of people, lots of times," Deekin avered, opening his notebook and giving Valen's caricature a sixth finger on each hand. "That reminds Deekin... if you wants, Deekin could tells you abouts time Deekin, a cleric and a werewolf walks into a bar and-"

"No," Valen broke in.

"You be sure?" Deekin prodded.

"_Yes,_" Valen seethed.

"Okays. Mean goat man's loss, not Deekin's," the kobold shrugged, getting back to writing.

"I'm _not_ a goat man," Valen muttered, touching a hand to his horns self-consciously. Deekin smiled to himself and made a note of this.

The trio wandered down the passage for quite some time. Deekin found himself preoccupied with writing down the most recent events concerning the gelatinous cube; he wanted the Boss's epic tale to be complete, after all. Valen was brooding and silent, and Umbra was just plain silent as they traversed the slimy rock tunnel. Only the steady dripping of the stalactites, skritching of Deekin's pen and sound of their footfalls penetrated the thick quiet as they walked. Deekin finished writing and looked all around, noting the squashed look of the mushrooms around here, undoubtedly squished beneath the cube's mass when it had squeezed through this place. The mushrooms were still intact, however; the gelatinous cube had not absorbed them. He wondered what it ate-rats, maybe? Did the Underdark have rats? It had bats, he knew that. Perhaps the cube fed off stray drow... maybe the Boss would know.

"Boss, what you thinks-" Sadly, Valen had beat him to the punch yet again.

"I notice that have no trouble finding your way around in this dark," Valen was saying to Umbra. "Might I ask why that is?"

Before Umbra could answer, Deekin broke in, "Boss be Shadovar, human being from Plane of Shadow. Is all dark, so they sees well in dark, of course. You not reads book?"

"I think it's safe to say I didn't, kobold," Valen said casually, going on. "The Plane of Shadow, hm? I can't say I've ever been there."

"It is not much," Umbra said dismissively. "Only blackness and shadows, as the name would suggest."

"I don't suppose there are any other distinguishing features?" Valen prodded.

"Ah, yes. It is cold, for the beings which form it are only half-alive, and within them bodes the chill of death," Umbra added.

"Is that all?" Valen asked.

"They hates life and light with equal fervor," Deekin said suddenly. "Because they is shadow. They dwells in shadow, they is made of shadow, and all they ever be is shadow. And that not ever changes." He looked up to Umbra for approval. "That right, Boss? Deekin reads it-"

"Shadow can change," Umbra interrupted. "More than flesh beings. At slightest light's influence, shadow will shift and flicker, while flesh remains the same."

"But... there not be any light in Shadow Plane," Deekin pointed out timidly. Umbra was silent, as was Valen, tail twitching as he anticipated her reply.

"No," Umbra said at last. "No, there is no light."

"So shadows in Shadow Plane not ever changes, right?" Deekin said with a slight smile. "They just stays in shadow and keeps on hating life and light forever until they fades away and-"

"Believe what you will," Umbra cut in sharply, and was silent. Deekin was taken aback. Umbra had never spoken so harshly to him before... what had he done wrong? He was talking about the malevolent shadow beings, not the Shadovar. Hadn't she realized that?

Deciding that the conversation between the two had sufficiently dropped, Valen said to Umbra, "I am a planar being myself. I was born in Sigil. Have you heard of the place?"

"Sigil? Which circle of hell be that?" Deekin wondered, getting out his notebook and doing his best not to show he was hurt.

"Sigil isn't a circle of hell!" Valen snapped at the kobold. A mystical look passed over his face for a moment. "Sigil is the most famous city of the planes, the great City of Doors as it is sometimes called. All planars have walked its streets at one time or another. Most of the citizens of Sigil would no doubt be offended to hear that anyone from your world has never heard of them. It is an odd place, beautiful and hideous and dangerous and all in-between." The look was gone just as quickly as it had come, his face turning to Umbra. The way his eyes clung to her put the kobold at definite unease. "But I'm curious about you. Were you raised in the Shadow Plane?"

"...in some sense of the word, yes, you might say that." Umbra replied vaguely, ending with a solid inflection that clearly implied she did not wish to say more. Valen quirked an eyebrow.

"Your answer doesn't exactly answer my question," he responded. "But I understand your reluctance." He looked ahead-away from Umbra, much to Deekin's relief. "Oh, look. Another one." There was no doubt what he was referring to. Another gelatinous cube had emerged from a turn up ahead and was sludging its way straight for them. Deekin set down his tome-desperately hoping the slime didn't damage the cover too badly-and prepared the proper spell. Seconds later, another wave of cold came tumulting down the tunnel ahead of them, passing over and freezing solid this cube as well. Again, Valen smashed it into bits, and that was that. Deekin picked his book back up, brushed off most of the slime disdainfully, and opened it to record this latest installment. They moved on again, but Deekin soon stopped, catching something out of the corner of his eye. Sliding the pen in to mark his place and closing the book up, he scurried over to the object and stooped down.

"Boss, you drops shoe!" he called, tucking his book in pack and grabbing the shoe with one hand. It was a simple gray slipper-and extremely heavy. Deekin gripped it with both hands this time; gritting his teeth, he managed to haul it up, though his knees wavered slightly under the weight. Looking underimpressed, Valen came striding over and put a hand out with a roll of his meager pupils.

"You can't even handle a shoe, kobold?" he queried with a touch of superiority. "Here, give it to me."

"Okies!" Deekin agreed with a broad grin, dropping the shoe in Valen's outstretched hand eagerly. Valen had removed his chainmail gloves earlier so his hands wouldn't sweat, so the shoe slammed directly into his bare palm. It hurt.

"GODS!" Valen snatched the shoe up with his other hand, revealing a smarting red mark on the offended palm. He shot Deekin a dirty look-the kobold only smiled innocently-then looked at Umbra, holding the heavy slipper high. "This shoe is as heavy as an iron! Why don't you wear something lighter?"

"It is... training," was the only answer Umbra could provide, rushing over and swiping the shoe from him, then letting it drop to the ground again and covering the fallen shoe with the hem of her robe. When the robe moved aside, the shoe was gone, presumably on her foot.

"Training to make your feet stronger?" Valen asked skeptically.

"You never knows when strong feets could comes in handy," Deekin offered sagely. Valen rolled his eyes and started ahead, and the others followed, carefully stepping over some pieces of frozen gelatinous matter. The tunnel forked up ahead. The cube's viscous trail came from the right fork, which looked dark and uninviting. Admittedly, the left side didn't look much better.

"Which way should we go?" Umbra asked. Valen opened his mouth, but Deekin leaned toward the left and spoke first.

"Deekin hears water this way," the kobold informed. This perked even Valen's interest, and so it was decided that they would go left. They hadn't trod that way for long when they came upon the source of the sound Deekin had heard. The tunnel ended up in a small room, water gushing out of a hole in the rock ceiling and filling a clear, shallow pool in the room's center.

"Great. A dead end," Valen stated unenthusiastically, turning around and starting off down the way they came.

"Waits!" Deekin piped up, holding up a small, scaly hand. "You not hears that sound?" Valen faced the room again and listened intently. The sound of draining water echoed throughout the room.

"So?" Valen wondered. Deekin rushed over to the pool, knelt down at the edge and gestured for Umbra and Valen to do the same. Umbra did so promptly, Valen with some hesitation. The pool's clear waters spiraled inward gradually, funneling out into a hole in the center of the pool.

"See?" Deekin grinned at the other two triumphantly. "That be our way out!"

"You want us to drown ourselves?" Valen asked plainly.

"Yes-NO!" Deekin said quickly, standing up and pointing at the natural drain, stout tail wagging confidently. "You hears loud echo? That means there be air down there, enough air for us to breathes."

"...oh. You're right," Valen consented reluctantly.

"An apt observation, Deekin," Umbra congratulated him.

"Thanks, Boss," Deekin beamed, visibly relieved that Umbra was no longer mad at him. "So we gots to jumps down it and-"

"INTO THE FLAMES WE LEAP!" Valen barked, clutching his flail in one hand as he got a running start, leapt out over the pool and swiftly plunged down the hole.

"But it be water, not flames," Deekin puzzled, then shrugged it off and jumped in as well. His legs were too short to afford a long jump like Valen, so he paddled out to the drain, pinched his nostrils shut and let himself get sucked into it. "Down Deekin goooooes!" Without further ado, Umbra leapt down after.

Deekin had been right, fortunately. The drain led down into a narrow but long tunnel, which Umbra and Valen could have crawled through and Deekin could have walked through standing at his full height. Such exertion was spared of them, however; the water emptying into the drain sped through the tunnel rapidly, sweeping the fallen three away before they could catch their bearings. Valen was too far down the tunnel for Deekin to catch sight of him, but he could see Umbra behind him. Deekin had some difficulty keeping his head above water, but Umbra was floating along rather casually.

"You be okay back there, Boss?" he hollered over the booming sound of rushing water, further amplified by the tunnel's hard walls.

"This one is wet," Umbra responded dryly. "Otherwise, yes, this one is fine."

"Good," Deekin smiled, spinning in the current. "WHEEEEEE!"

"This is rather enjoyable," Umbra said thoughtfully, brightening.

"That be the spirit, Boss!" Deekin grinned, then accidentally submerged completely and came back up a few seconds later, spluttering. Deekin was just glad Valen hadn't been there to see that. Settling himself up more safely in the water, he smiled back at Umbra, who was being swept along in a near-sitting position, graceful and strangely intriguing as always. He did love her.

The water flow kept on, but the tunnel stopped there. Deekin was flushed out a hole in the side of a tall, steep rock wall, and down the resulting waterfall. "EEEEEEEEEE!" the kobold shrieked, flailing helplessly as he plummeted downward. He splashed headfirst into a pool of water below, which was luckily thrice his height. The fall's momentum slowed as he drifted down, finally bumping lightly against the bottom. Shaking his head, he began swimming to the surface, bursting out of the water and gasping for air as he swam to shore and pulled himself out onto dry land. Valen was waiting there, water-darkened red hair matted against his head and eyebrow raised.

"Have fun?" he asked. Deekin ignored him, taking off his lute and thwacking it against the ground gently, trying to get the water out of it. Umbra joined them a few moments later, disdainfully wringing her robe dry as best she could.

"Don't you have another change of clothes?" Valen prodded.

"This one refuses to change," Umbra said steadfastly, looking thin and rather pathetic in her waterlogged robe, though it was thick and dark enough that nothing recognizable could be discerned past it. Valen shrugged unconcernedly and squeezed some water out of his ponytail.

"Next time we're faced with a problem, let me find the solution, kobold," he suggested.

"Whatever means goat man says," the kobold grumbled crossly, taking off and opening his pack and desperately hoping the epic tale wasn't ruined. Miraculously, the pack had protected it fairly well against water damage. The binding was soggy, but the ink was only slightly runny, still legible. Kneeling down and thanking the gods profusely, he separated and blotted the pages with his sleeve, then delicately closed the book and returned it to his pack. He gave his lute a test strum and grimaced; it wouldn't be sounding right for a while. Nonetheless, he put it on and stood up. The pool he'd landed in narrowed into a shallow stream farther ahead, which ran off where the ground broke off ahead. Creeping to the cliff's edge, he looked down trepidly. There was a river half a mile below, dark and rushing by at an ungodly speed. He gulped and backed away from the edge somewhat, then gazed straight ahead.

"It be an island," he announced. Valen and Umbra followed his gaze in unison. Sure enough, a gargantuan, jagged chunk of rock that could only be described as an island sprouted out of the river in the distance. Though it was too far away to make out much, it looked populated. The ground stopped here for miles on; the island was the most obvious goal.

"What is that place, Valen?" Umbra wondered.

Valen shook his head. "I have no idea."

"Deekin neither," the kobold chimed in, sitting down and writing this into the epic tale. When this was done, he put the book away and looked at Valen, who had insisted on solving their next dilemma earlier.

"So," he asked with an impish smile, "how we gets across?"

* * *

(Deekin's a stinker, ain't he? Keep up the reviews, and I'll try to get Chapter Nine out somewhat quickly this time.) 


	9. None the Wiser

(A/N: Man, how long has it been since I updated this? I hope this gets to be a routine again, I missed it. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: Until BioWare surrenders all rights to me, which will be never, Neverwinter Nights is not mine.)

* * *

Chapter Nine

Valen clutched the edge of the cliff and looked down at the dark river raging below. His brow furrowed, tail swung pensively even as it coiled on the rock ground. He studied the wall off the cliff carefully, but it was far too steep and slick to hope of climbing down safely, and though he might survive a many-foot plummet into the river's treacherous current, the kobold and the odd woman definitely wouldn't. And the Seer wouldn't like that. Neither would he, actually. Valen bit his lip, then pulled the teeth back into his mouth and looked at the aforementioned.

They were a curious twosome, to be sure (not that he wasn't an oddity himself). He'd never before known a kobold who was cheerful, naive and altogether unconcerned with pillaging, but Deekin was. As for Umbra... who could be sure about Umbra? He'd heard of the Shadovar - even slain a few back in the Blood Wars, demons and devils sometimes recruited other planars to help them in battle - but they'd been very similar to normal humans, despite their obvious shadow heritage. They grimaced, screamed, grunted and blinked; Umbra's face, or what little of it that could be seen, was still as stone. Her robe was obviously arcane, thwarting any and all of his attempts to pick up a scent on her. She was strange, even unnatural.

And very intriguing.

Still wringing her robes out, Umbra seemed entirely unaware that she was being watched by Valen, and Deekin as well. The kobold sat a short distance from her, playing a kobold game with pebbles and admiring her out of the corner of his eye. Despite his displeasure at Valen's presence, he was still invariably happy. To be traveling with his beloved Boss through the Underdark - it was a dream come true! What more could he possibly ask for? Deekin beamed at his good fortune and tossed a pebble off the cliff. Scrambling over to the edge, he intended to watch it hit the river's surface, but it was too small, and shrank out of his line of sight before then. Shrugging mildly, the kobold turned his eyes to the stern tiefling standing over him and looking across the river at the island, which seemed to be mocking him. Forcing the red tint out of his eyes, Valen spun around and began walking along the edge.

"There's no way across," he reported. "We'll be best off bordering the ravine." Deekin disliked the half-demon telling them what to do, but Umbra didn't seem to mind.

"As you would wish it," Umbra replied, following swiftly after, the waterlogged hem of her robe squishing along the ground. Deekin sighed - happy though he was, he seemed to be doing a lot of sighing these days - and followed as well.

They hadn't gone three steps, before they all stopped in unison and looked at one, sole thing just up ahead. There was a long silence.

"Valen," Umbra said when no one else would, "that looks like a bridge, does it not?"

The grating of Valen's teeth was audible. "Yes, Umbra," he said through gritted teeth. "Yes, it does." All that time searching for a way across, and it was right there the whole time. Deekin grinned and added this valuable tidbit to his tale as they headed for the bridge, Valen silently griping to himself all the way.

The bridge was an elaborately constructed one - the norm in the Underdark, Deekin was beginning to think. Evil though they were, the subterranean races were fine craftsmen. Carved entirely out of the dark rock of this place, the bridge's railings extended clear to the island, making it at least fifty feet long. The bottom, however, was not rock. It consisted of translucent spots of pinkish-gold arcane energy, shimmering down the bridge's length. Deekin gulped.

"This not look safe," he said aloud, writing this down. So of course, Umbra stepped out onto it. "BOSS!" Deekin was ready to grab her, but she didn't fall through. The spot held; confident, or just plain foolhardy, Umbra stepped across to the next one, and the next, and the next. Stepping down onto the first spot, Valen tested his weight on it, decided it was safe and followed suit. He shot Deekin a questioning look over his shoulder.

"Okay, so Deekin be wrong," Deekin shrugged, hopping after them, but feeling queasy striding across such unstable-looking material. In every adventure book Deekin had ever read, it was advised that when up high, one should **not look down.** Telling himself this, Deekin looked down.

"EEK!" Deekin froze. The magic spots were very transparent, allowing him a clear view of the black rapids rushing beneath them.

"Scared of heights, kobold?" Valen smiled, easily striding backward across the bridge. Deekin shook his head and continued on, wondering how Valen and Umbra could be so fearless.

"Hah! You is kidding!" Deekin scoffed, stomach doing flips and hands clutching the bars of the rails as he scrabbled on (he was too short to slide his palms along the tops). "If you reads Deekin's book, you knows that Boss and Deekin once be in city hundreds of feets above the ground!"

Valen raised a brow. "Oh, really?"

"Yes," Umbra answered before Deekin could. "We traversed ancient Undrentide's halls after it had risen again, slew an evil medusa, and escaped before Undrentide's second fall."

"Undrentide be Netherese city," Deekin informed Valen enthusiastically. "They used to flies!"

"I know," Valen said. "I didn't read your book, but the Seer did tell me some things about you."

"Then you knows Boss be greatest hero ever!" Deekin grinned, forgetting his fears and leaping at the chance to talk about Umbra. "Once, we be in dark scary place with dead peoples - "

"A crypt?" Valen offered dryly.

"Yeah, that!" Deekin nodded eagerly. "And there be living wind, called the Dead Wind! And it brings zombies out of the ground, and they attacks Boss and Deekin, but Boss too quick for them! Boss slices off its hands, then its head, while Deekin hides behind pillar - "

"How brave you were," Valen commented.

" - and shoots crossbow at them!" Deekin finished, glaring at Valen. "Never interrupts the storyteller! Anyway, then - "

"We made it across the bridge," Valen cut in.

"NO! What Deekin just tells you about interrupting - " Deekin stopped, realizing they'd just made it to the other side. "Oh... yeah. Wow, that be fast." He patted the rock ground with one foot to make sure it was solid and skipped after the other two.

They'd made it across to the island. It was small, rocky, sharp and altogether, pretty unimpressive once you were there. Writing in his notebook, Deekin's description of the place was roughly the same. Valen, however, seemed somewhat intrigued.

"Yes," he said thoughtfully, looking around at his surroundings as he walked. "I believe I've heard of this place."

"Oh?" queried Umbra, stepping closer to him (Deekin quickly scurried over as well). "What do you know of it?"

"Not much," the tiefling admitted. "They say - "

"Who be 'they'?" Deekin questioned suddenly. Valen's eyes flared, then cooled as he tried to come up with an answer.

"You know... they," he explained.

"Deekin not knows," the kobold said blankly. Valen struggled to put this into terms.

"You know... like an old wives' tale," Valen told them. "'They' say this, 'they' say that..."

"So you be about to tells us old wives' tale?" Deekin gasped, eyes wide. "Deekin loves tales!"

"NO!" Valen growled.

"And what 'they' be saying, anyways?" Deekin added.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you!" Valen seethed.

"Well, don't pops a vein," Deekin scoffed. "Tells us!"

"I'm - " Valen cut himself off and wiped a hand over his face. "Nevermind. _They_" - he shot the impertinent kobold a glare at this - "say there is an island inhabited by powerful golems. I suspect this is the same island; the bridge we crossed was obviously constructed by a powerful arcane craftsman, such as a golem maker. These golems would be particularly useful against the Valsharess and her army..."

"Ooh, goody!" Deekin grinned. He looked around anxiously for about a few seconds, then gave Valen a worried stare. "Umm... Deekin hates to tells you this, mean goat man..."

"_What?_" Valen hissed.

"There not be any golems," Deekin said simply. The tiefling stood silently for a moment, working to keep his rage in check. Finally, he went on.

"Well, obviously they're not out in the _open_. They're probably beneath the island... in some sort of dungeon... with some sort of entrance..."

"Like that one?" Deekin queried, pointing directly behind Valen, who quickly spun around. There, a prominent, portcullised opening sprung out of the ground.

"..._yes_," Valen snarled, glaring at the portcullis but envisioning Deekin. "How long have you known about that?"

"Abouts ever since mean goat man starts talking about golems," Deekin replied sagely. Valen was quiet.

"Kobold... I would advise you not to push my temper," he said at last, back still turned. "I've torn apart demons bigger than you."

"Lots of things be bigger than Deekin," Deekin pointed out, clearly unimpressed. Valen's restrained anger was nearly tangible in the air at this point.

"Deekin," Umbra broke in, abruptly reminding the other two of her presence, "should you not be writing?"

"Oh... uh, right, Boss," Deekin agreed, smiling to himself and looking back down at his notebook. Only at that point did it fully occur to him he'd just pissed off an extraplanar monster that could have killed him a hundred times over by now. The smile quickly wilted, stomach sinking.

"What Deekin be _thinking!_" he muttered to himself incredulously. Back in the Silver Marches, Deekin would have shrieked and turned tail if someone like Valen had so much as looked at him. Maybe his dragon blood was making him braver... if so, he wished it would turn him into a big, strong half-dragon FIRST.

Well, whatever the cause, Deekin wasn't in writing spirits now. Tucking his notebook away, he sighed and looked ahead. Valen stalked toward the portcullis now, shoving it down with a foot. Deekin scurried over to get a better look. Alas, the area beyond the opening was even darker than the rest of the Underdark, and even his eyes failed to pick out anything.

"Three golems," Umbra noted. Deekin and Valen looked at her curiously - well, more adoration than curiosity in Deekin's case. "That this one can see, at least," Umbra added.

"So I was right," Valen smirked.

"Yes, you be right, nice goat man," Deekin chattered as amiably as he could, though a dirty look from Valen informed him if he truly meant it, he shouldn't have called him "goat man".

A familiar wave of darkness washed over them. Familiar to Deekin, at least; Valen stumbled back and drew his weapon.

"Steady yourself," Umbra ordered him calmly. "It is but an invisibility spell, light one."

"An invisibility spell?" Valen repeated, peering at the hooded form. "Why did you cast an invisibility spell?"

"Likely, there are many golems within," she replied. "This one has fought golems. This one has lost to golems. It would be best to keep ourselves hidden from them." Before Valen could interrupt, she added, "This one suspects you can see only blackness ahead. If you wish to charge into darkness and fight blindly, you are welcome to do so." This quieted him momentarily, aside from a snide "What are you smiling at, kobold?" comment, which wiped the smile off Deekin's face.

"So you're suggesting we go in hiding, like cowards?" he asked Umbra bluntly.

"Call it cowardice," she answered simply, starting ahead, Deekin right behind her. "In the Shadows, we call it 'survival'." Deekin made sure Valen couldn't see his smile this time around. The tiefling grumbled, clutched his flail tighter, and followed with a swish of his tail.

Entering the dungeon engulfed the travelers in pitch blackness. "Is it too much to ask my lady to cast a spell of light?" Valen grumbled sarcastically.

"This one would rather not," came the reply as they ventured deeper. Umbra quickly assumed the duty of being their eyes. "Mind that pillar, Valen. Deekin, watch for that crack. A low overhanging, tiefling. Deekin - nevermind, you avoided it. Valen, you are about to crash - well, this one supposes you know that now." And so it would have gone on - but, fortunately, a blue light soon greeted them, emanating from a series of enchanted torches flickering along the walls. The eerie light swept across the passageway they wandered, illuminating the sturdy rock walls, and sturdier metal golems lining them. The golems rocked back and forth in their joints, indicating that shams of life still possessed them; they stayed in place to guard... something. Fortunately, whatever passed for their eyes did not see the trio creeping past, the dark invisibility barrier rolling along with them.

"Do not make any loud noises," Umbra advised them, "lest it shatter the spell."

"You hears that, Enserric?" Deekin grinned at the sword's scabbard. Most likely, he did not.

"Enserric?" Valen repeated to himself, but did not question further. Deekin, meanwhile, inspected the golems with a high level of intrigue. The golems were intricately constructed of durable, expensive metals, shaped with keen detail and inscribed with complex arcane symbols sharp as the day they were carved. Rust had not worn away at these silent soldiers, but layers of grime and dust marked their age. Deekin felt like writing now, but didn't risk making the noise. His gratitude for the invisibility spell was renewed; they had passed at least twenty rows of formidable golems that he had seen, and perhaps even more that he hadn't. He looked ahead at the spellcaster herself, and smiled. She was still just as amazing as she was that day she had saved him from the gnolls. As much fame as his book had generated for her, she deserved so much more. His smile faded as he glanced uncomfortably at Valen, though the tiefling failed to notice. Deekin envied him. Valen was strong, handsome, and most of all, human (or close enough to it). And Shadovar though she was... Umbra was human as well. Depressing thoughts running through his head, it was suddenly easy for Deekin to keep quiet as they walked.

The tunnel become to twist, gradually at first, then at angles. It never forked off, however, so following it was simple, if more erratic. At last, the passage ended. Deekin presumed it ended, at least. It was difficult to see much past the immense golem up ahead, though the golem was a sight itself; the size of ten of its comrades stacked together, it was a gleaming silvery-gold, with many more arcane imprints than the others. Also unlike the others, it had something of a face, with a carved nose, hinged mouth, and two shallow pits for eye sockets. It was fascinating, but as Valen bluntly put it, "It's in the way." Truthfully, the golem was hunched over, and still took up the entire passageway. Deekin darted ahead and, taking a deep breath, managed to inconspicuously squeeze under its knee and emerge on the other side. Umbra followed suit, deftly slipping between the construct's arm and waist.

"Come, Valen," she encouraged quietly. Without hesitation, he attempted to do so, aiming to leap through the way Umbra had. However, he was larger and more muscular than Umbra, not to mention wearing a heavy suit of armor. So, he instead succeeded in lodging himself under the golem's armpit. Needless to say, this did a fine job of alerting the golem of their presence and shattering the invisibility spell. Valen was too tightly wedged to slap his forehead, so Deekin did it for him. He'd pay for it later (if there _was_ a later), oh yes, but for now it was worth it. If Deekin was going to die, he was going out grinning.

The large golem screeched a metallic warcry. The cry echoed along the tunnel, springing each and every golem to simulated life. They pushed away from their stolid positions, marching in straight rows down the tunnel toward the intruders. The largest golem shuffled to get in a better fighting position, its actions too automated for it to think of simply crushing the tiefling it already had jammed under its arm. This was to Valen's advantage, allowing him to work himself free as the golem positioned and repositioned itself in impossible attempts to stand in this tiny corridor. Somersaulting safely onto the floor, Valen got to his feet and gave Deekin a death glare before looking at Umbra.

"What now?" he asked sarcastically.

"We run," Umbra replied, fluidly sprinting off down the passage, her kobold companion quick to follow. Valen groaned, then looked around as a loud, abrasive noise resounded from behind. The gargantuan golem had successfully turned itself around and was lumbering toward the invaders in a cramped position, scraping the walls and ceiling as it went, the other golems pushing it along quickly from behind as they marched.

"Running it is," Valen agreed, and bolted after the others without another thought.

* * *

(Sorry for the brevity of this chapter, but I decided that I was setting unrealistic standards for myself. I'm lazy. Please review.) 


	10. Do Drop In

(A/N: In my Latin studies, I noticed something. Did you know the Latin word for iron is "ferrum"? Ferrum, Ferron... hmm... but, Ferron is made of gold... oh well. Thanks for the reviews, and I hope you enjoy this chapter :) Ferron and the gang have undergone some changes... I just don't think the game did them justice. Also, some certain flesh golems have been cut out - wouldn't they have rotted in all those hundreds of years?

Disclaimer: I own some Neverwinter Nights CD-ROMs, but not the franchise.)

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Chapter Ten

The golems were closing in on them now. Of all things, you'd think Deekin would be most worried about getting stampeded by the automatons. As it was, his top concern was the shrill, incessant scraping sound the largest golem made as it moved down the passage. Take the noise of nails on chalkboard, amplify that one hundred times, add in the constant clanking and screeching of heavy metal golem parts wheeling in their joints, and you get the idea. The kobold gritted his teeth and pressed his hands against his ears in a futile attempt to mute the sound, eyes wide.

"They never says anything about how noisy golems be in any book Deekin ever reads!" he commented.

"What?" Valen and Umbra asked over the noise.

"Deekin says, they never says - nevermind, there be the door!" Deekin cried, espying a corroded old metal door with a silver loop for a handle at the corridor's end.

"What?" Umbra repeated.

"YES!" Valen put on a burst of speed and ran ahead, grabbing the looped handle and giving it a fierce tug. Rather than opening the door, he broke the handle off. "Damn!" he cursed, not that he could be heard. The golems were getting closer, and the noise was growing more overwhelming by the second. At this rate, if they didn't open the door soon, they'd be crushed against it. Valen gritted his teeth and began backing up.

"What he be doing?" Deekin wondered.

"What?" said Umbra. Valen backed up six more steps, then charged at the door, throwing himself against it full-force. The door's rusted hinges squealed and snapped, and the door and the tiefling fell together through the doorway - and out of sight.

"Huh?" Deekin uttered in surprise. Umbra pulled him out of the way just as a colossal golem foot came crashing down on the spot where he'd been.

"Thanks, Bo - " He was cut off as Umbra yanked him forward. The golems were picking up speed; there was no time to hesitate. At Umbra's insistence, they dove through the rectangular opening where a door had been, before Valen had something to do with it.

Speaking of Valen, he was fine. A little jumbled - a flight of irregular stone steps lay beyond the doorframe, which he had unintentionally sledded over on the detached door before crashing into the landing at the bottom - but fine. Umbra leapt gracefully onto the steps, set Deekin down gently, faced the door and drew her swords. Valen half-expected a "told you we'd need an invisibility spell" remark, but Umbra said nothing, and Deekin was writing as though his life depended on it. Realizing the sorceress was waiting for the golems to reach them, the tiefling got to his feet, pulled out his flail and readied himself for a fight. He didn't know how Umbra expected to face all those golems at once, but they couldn't keep running.

The scraping sound grew louder and louder, waxing into a whistling shriek. Bits of dirt and mortar dropped from the ceilings and walls, shaken loose by the golems' tremors. The golems rounded a turn in the passageway and could now be seen through the doorless frame, the leader's eye pits glowing bright blue. It wouldn't fit through the door, but likely, it could make a door for itself. Their metal joints clanked them closer, closer...

"About time you took me out of that bloody scabbard!" Enserric griped at his wielder. Valen eyed the talking blade with mild curiosity, but didn't seem too impressed.

...closer...

"This be great addition to tale," Deekin muttered as he wrote, completely confident in his Boss.

...closer...

"I hope you know what you're doing, Umbra," Valen mumbled to himself.

...closer...

...and like a rusty train, the constructs came screeching to a halt. For a heartbeat, the trio was still. The golems rotated and scraped back the way they had come. Valen let out a breath, and Deekin's writing pace slowed somewhat. Umbra lowered her swords, then replaced them in the scabbards.

"NO! Not the scabba - " Enserric cried as he was stored away.

"Why you thinks they left, Boss?" Deekin asked.

"They were probably assigned to guard the first level," Valen answered for Umbra, cautiously slipping the flail back into his belt, "and only the first level." He gestured toward the second flight of stairs which extended past the landing, ending in another door. "There's a level below this one."

"Ooh!" commented an intrigued Deekin, writing this down as well. "Let's hurries down, then!" He paused thoughtfully and looked at Umbra. "After Boss casts invisibility spell, of course." Umbra spread out her long fingers and started the spell, but Valen cut her off.

"No, I don't think that will work," he interjected. "We can't keep hiding. Sooner or later, we will come across a situation where invisibility won't cut it. Better to pit ourselves against the dungeon as is, and be prepared." Umbra was silent. Finally, she lowered her hands.

"This one shall confer to your judgment for now, Valen," she consented. "Should we need to hide, the spell will be ready." Deekin was astonished as Valen led them down the stairs, no invisibility to shield them. Umbra was doing as the tiefling said!

"Boss, you be sure about this?" he asked her hesitantly.

"He led the drow rebels in battle before we arrived, Deekin," she reminded him. "If he can command an army, he likely knows what he is doing."

"Yeah, Deekin guess..." he grumbled. Valen may have been the head of an army, but Umbra was a formidable fighter. Whatever she did, Deekin believed in it... and that meant believing in Valen, unfortunately.

Valen grabbed his flail and shoved the door open, barely glancing beyond it before going through. Umbra was next to follow, the kobold reluctantly bringing up the rear. The room behind the door, like the hall before it, was small, dank, and lit by blue torches, another door placed at its end. As they neared that door, Deekin noticed something odd about the floor. Like so much of the Underdark, it was made of solid rock, yet there was a series of small, strangely shaped craters. What an odd floor design. In fact, the more Deekin studied them, the more they looked like footprints. He started to trace the shape of one such crater in a spare page of his notebook.

"Kobold!" Valen urged. Deekin slipped his quill (an enchanted sort that never ran dry, which he'd bought some months back before this adventure began) into his book to mark his place and hurried ahead. After slapping the tiefling's forehead earlier, it was probably a good idea not to infuriate him any more than necessary.

Umbra was the one to open this door, prying it open a slat with her long, slender fingers before opening it all the way. Valen's, Deekin's, and probably Umbra's eyes widened at the sight which met them. Deekin's notebook was open in a second.

Behind the door was more of a small village than a room, full of strange buildings constructed of odd, rounded globules of shiny dark metal, so that each structure looked like a clump of blackish metal bubbles stood up on a rock platform. Balls of blue flame hovered in midair, granting the vicinity an azure aura. Trellises without vines, fountains without water, benches without people, and statues without faces gave the place the eerie quality of something attempting to imitate life and falling short. Winding paths branched and circled their way through the mock-village - not deliberately paved, but ground to gravel and powder by an unknown cause. Involuntarily, Deekin shivered, jotted something down, and shivered again. Valen's grip on his flail tightened. Umbra was as still as the village itself. The musty air was quiet, the intruding threesome having stopped dead as they looked the unnatural scene over.

"What you thinks this be?" Deekin wondered, quickly clamping his long jaws shut. In this chilling silence, his voice seemed booming. No one ever answered him. At that moment, an odd grating noise filled the air.

"Not again!" Valen groaned, bringing his hands to his ears. But this time, the sound was not the result of marching golems, but of the metal bubble-buildings which filled the area. The globules which composed each one shuddered and scraped against each other, screeching at the friction. The round parts began to roll around, reassembling so a large gap stood out in each structure. Out of each bubble-building walked a single, short figure.

"Dwarves?" muttered Valen, scrutinizing them.

"They gots no beards," Deekin noted, putting the quill to his mouth and adding thoughtfully, "not any hairs, actually." Indeed, the newcomers did appear to be hairless dwarven men. Simultaneously, the dwarves began stepping off the platforms beneath their homes, treading in even rows down the worn paths toward the trio. As they drew closer, Deekin noticed something strange about them.

"They be naked!" he cried in astonishment.

"And made of metal," Valen said wryly.

"Oh, yeah. That too," Deekin nodded. Each metal dwarf gleamed either silver or bronze in the blue flamelight - fortunately, none displayed any overtly repulsive parts. They had been well-maintained over the years, showing few scratches and little corrosion. The constructs were exquisitely crafted, as artistic as any statue, with no breaks or hinges at the joints; yet they moved as smoothly as any being of flesh. Each member of the group was as uniform as the next, making Deekin suppose they'd all been formed in the same mold.

The trio had been so caught up in examining these strange golems, they'd barely noticed they were being approached until the golems came to a gradual halt. The rows' leaders broke off from the crowd, wound around the threesome, and a golem grabbed each intruder by the arms with a clamplike grip. Valen and Deekin gave indignant cries, but they fell on deaf ears. Umbra easily freed herself and snatched both swords from her scabbards.

"YES! I'm FREE, and what fun! We're about to battle!" Enserric cheered. His spirits quickly dampened as he became aware of his surroundings. "Oh... we're about to fight _golems_? Trying to bang me up, are you? Sigh, be it as it must... and I wanted blood..." Umbra ignored him and prepared to attack.

"Stay your weapons. We have no quarrel with you." A chorus of metallic voices rang out in unison, carrying the same message. It was the golems speaking, though their molded faces did not move, not even the mouths. Umbra lowered her swords.

"So you are sentient?" Valen queried. "Or is this a recorded message?" He grimaced and attempted to yank his arms free. "And let me go!"

"We are sentient. We will free you if you do not attack," the golems informed.

"Alright, I won't attack!" Valen snapped. Obediently, the golems dropped their grip. Though standing tense and ready to move if the golems tried anything, Valen stayed true to his word. First thing upon being released, Deekin briskly rubbed his arms and got back to writing.

"Go ahead, play the pacifist," Enserric grumbled. "I'm just a sword... I won't stop you..."

"Ferron, our leader, wishes to speak with you," the golems told them. "We will take you to him, if you are willing."

"We are willing," Umbra answered before Valen could. The golems bobbed their heads simultaneously, creating a sea of nods, then turned around and began marching away. Umbra followed without hesitation but kept her weapons drawn, Valen did the same, and Deekin kept so busy writing he barely noticed the ground into front of him and stumbled twice. As they walked, the golems began to disperse, some leaving off from the rest and returning to their metal bubble-houses, which shuffled closed over them again upon entry. The reason they did this, Deekin realized when he bothered to pay attention, was because altogether the train of golems was so long that it spanned over half the village's length, and they wouldn't have led the adventurers far if the line didn't shorten. By the time they reached their goal, only five golems were left. The golem which stood before them now, however, was easily the size of six. It shone a brilliant gold, and was poured of a different mold than the rest. It wore an entirely unintentional look of eternal constipation, which was probably why that mold hadn't been used again. Deekin examined the golden golem carefully for a moment or so before brightly addressing Umbra.

"Hey, Boss! You remembers mean half-orc you goes to school with?" he asked.

"Xanos? He is rather difficult to forget," Umbra verified.

"Golem looks like Xanos, doesn't he? Well, Xanos if he falls into big vat of molten metal." The kobold was suddenly ponderous. "But he probably not walks around much after that." Deekin made a note of this in the epic tale. "Half-orcs... covered in molten metal... don't... walk much..."

"Put down your weapons," the golden golem beseeched, its face as unmoving as the rest.

"Would everyone stop _saying_ that?" Enserric fumed.

"We mean you no harm," the golem went on, regardless. "I am Ferron, leader of these sentient golems you see in this village."

"You're very well-spoken for a golem," Valen commented.

"This may seem strange to you, but we are not like most golems," Ferron said. "We are not mere constructs, as the golems above us. We can think and feel. In all ways, we are as real and alive as you yourself."

"Does you sweats?" Deekin wondered. "Or bleeds? Or cries? Or p - " Valen grabbed the kobold's snout and held it closed before he could go on.

"Ignore him," Valen told Ferron. "The trip here has addled his mind." Valen released Deekin, who glared at him briefly before resuming writing.

"And, like all creatures, we have the right to our freedom," Ferron continued. "The golems in this village all share my belief: we are not slaves to the Maker."

"The Maker?" Deekin asked, pausing. "Who be the Maker?"

"Our maker," the golem responded bluntly.

"Ah." Deekin wrote this down.

"Other than that, the Maker was nothing but a powerful wizard named Alsigard," said Ferron.

"Nothing but a powerful wizard," Enserric muttered. "Oh, yes. I can see how that would be unimpressive."

"He came here to this isolated island to work on creating the perfect golem," Ferron told them. "We are the results of his experiments. But as you can see, we are far from perfect. Perhaps that is why the Maker abandoned us. I can't say where the Maker went. To be honest, I no longer even care." Its metallic voice took on a passion Deekin had never known a golem to have. "The Maker no longer has any claim over me. He created me, but I am my own being! I have a right to live my life as I choose!"

"You sound like my daughter," Enserric commented wryly.

"Why you not looks for Maker?" queried Deekin, rolling the quill between his fingers as he looked to Ferron.

"The Maker vanished into the depths of the dungeon 512 years ago, but as you probably saw, he left some guards behind to keep up from escaping." Ferron's voice was bitter. "We have tried, but we are no match for the golems above in combat."

"Deekin not blames you," Deekin assured him. "Those golems be scary!"

"That still doesn't explain why you didn't look for your Maker," Valen noted. "You could have bargained with him, or at least tried."

"Well... we couldn't." Was it just Deekin, or did Ferron sound embarrassed?

"What do you mean, you couldn't?" Valen prodded.

"We found out where he went," Ferron admitted.

"Where was that?" Valen asked.

"There is a door hidden in the wall behind me," the golem told them. "We discovered it after 47 years of searching. But beyond it is a bridge."

"A bridge? Why that be bad?" Deekin wondered.

"We're... too heavy to cross it," Ferron finished reluctantly. "There is a pit beneath the bridge. The bridge snapped under our scouts' weight, and they tumbled into the pit. We never heard them hit the ground."

"So in other words, you not finds Maker because you weighs too much?" Deekin summarized, ducking before Valen could shut his mouth for him.

"In other words, yes," Ferron agreed shamefully.

"Interesting," Deekin remarked, writing. Ferron sighed, the sharp sound of steam escaping a vent, though there was no steam that Deekin could see.

"I can't believe you couldn't have found another way out," Valen said, shaking his head. "Despite your free will, you still think like constructs."

It was a long time before Ferron replied. "There you see the crux of the problem. We seek to become more than what we currently are, but to do so we must fight against our very nature."

"Deekin knows what you mean," Deekin said, and tried to prove the point he was trying to make by speaking in the first person. "Long ago I was just a stupid kobold, but now I is a famous adventurer and famous bard and author."

"Famous?" Valen raised an eyebrow.

Deekin ignored him. "If a tiny kobold can changes, so can a big hunk of talking metal!"

"For a bard, you certainly have a way with words," Valen observed.

"That is why we want to leave this island," Ferron said to Deekin. "Our hope is that if we can leave this place behind, then we can leave behind the chains or our own creation. Only then can we be truly free." Its tone became pleading. "If you could find the Maker and convince him to free us, we would be ever in your debt."

"If we do this, you must aid us in war against one called the Valsharess," Umbra told them.

"Agreed," said Ferron. "You need only keep up your end of the bargain."

"And you yours," Umbra returned, walking past the golem to the village's back wall. It was slimy and made of stone, but when examined closely, there was noticed to be a prominent crack running along it in a large, roughly triangular shape. Ferron knocked on it thrice, and the triangular area of stone fell outward, nearly crushing a certain kobold. Deekin took several steps back and wrote something down, but didn't mind too much. After being squashed by a fat dragon numerous times in his life, the prospect of getting squashed by anything else didn't seem too horrible. Through the new opening, a bridge could be seen, a section of it previously shattered by the golems' weight.

"Oh, bloody hells," Enserric said. "Do you expect to jump over that?"

"Actually, yes," Valen responded, and started through the opening.

"Well, you're insane, not my problem." Enserric mentally shrugged, then realized Umbra and Deekin were already following after the tiefling. "Oh... it is my problem, isn't it? Damn."

"Thank-you," Ferron called after them, "and good luck."

"Gods know we'll need it," Enserric grumbled.

* * *

(Review if you liked it, and if you didn't like it... review anyway. Enserric commands it.) 


	11. Meet The Maker

(A/N: Of all my chapters so far, I like this one the best :) Thanks for the reviews! I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Disclaimer: I am not officially affiliated with Neverwinter Nights in any way. Said franchise is entirely that of BioWare and Atari, and some other people.)

* * *

Chapter Eleven

They hadn't gone far before they got to the break in the bridge caused by Ferron's scouts. The gap was at least eight feet wide.

"We isn't really going to jumps across that, is we?" Deekin asked nervously, peeking over the jagged edge. The bridge extended to a platform, barely visible in the distance, and beneath them was only blackness. Deekin picked a small, crumbling piece of stone off the bridge and tossed it into the chasm. It faded off, but there was no echoing clatter of it hitting the bottom. Deekin gulped.

"Boss, you lives in shadows," he remembered, and pointed downward. "You sees anything?"

"Yes," she replied. "Blackness."

"...oh." Deekin thought. "This must be a bottomless pit. Deekin reads abouts them. Deekin be fascinated, if he not be so terrified right now." His eyes were glued to the pit for a while, but slowly drifted to the side as he noticed Valen shuffling around in a leather pouch slung on his weapon belt. The tiefling withdrew a rope, gripped it with both hands and snapped it taut twice to test its resilience, then gave it to Umbra.

"Hold this," he instructed.

"Alright," Umbra consented, sliding her weapons in their scabbards and taking the woven hemp. "Why?"

"Because I'm the only one that can make this jump," Valen answered simply, tying one of the rope's ends above the barb on his tail. So saying, he backed up several steps, then bolted ahead, launching into the air just before he could sprint straight off the edge. Hurling himself as far as he would go - which was quite far, no small thanks to his demonic heritage - Valen smashed his torso into the other side of the bridge and pulled himself all the way up, getting out of the way just as the rock crumbled under the impact and widened the gap. The rope pulled taut at this increase in distance, but Valen's long, whiplike tail extended it just far enough. He winced slightly at the pull on his spine, but signaled that all was well. On the other side, Umbra clutched her end of the rope.

"What now?" she asked.

"Send the kobold across," he called back - not too loudly, lest they alert some dungeon horror.

"So be it," she said, turning her attention to the kobold in question. "Deekin, can you - "

"Shimmies across?" Deekin finished, eyeing the dark abyss below them warily. He reached up and grabbed the rope anyway. "Sure, Boss." Taking a deep breath, he braced his feet against the unstable edge and pushed off with a burst of dust and gravel. His hands alternated grabbing the rope, moving him along fairly quickly. He arrived on Valen's side thirty seconds later, give or take.

"How Boss gets across?" he asked after pausing to catch his breath. Valen was quiet.

"I didn't think of that," he admitted. Before he could, Umbra jumped over the edge, still holding the rope.

"Boss!" Deekin panicked, though he supposed he should know better by now. Falling slack, the rope descended into the pit's endless depths, Valen's tail its only connection to the above. Said tiefling stifled a cry; the sudden strain made his tail feel like it was going to yank out of him. Gritting his teeth, he gripped it with both hands, lessening the pull. Umbra made her way up the rope swiftly, easily swinging up onto the bridge beside the other two. With a scowl, Valen untied the rope and had half a mind to let it fall out of pure spite, but bundled it up and returned it to his pouch instead.

"Are you alright?" he asked Umbra.

"This one is fine," the cowled one avered, striding ahead. "We should not waste time."

"True," Valen nodded, following. Deekin was compelled to write something, but decided against it and followed as well. As they traversed the bridge's length, however, Deekin couldn't help but think he heard chilling echoes from far below the blackness which spread out on either side. He took watching his feet, long-toed and scaly. The bridge's pockmarked stone surface was riddled with hairline cracks that did little to console him. He looked back up ahead, where Umbra was in the lead and Valen was a little too close for Deekin's comfort. He ran ahead and get closer, ignoring that it meant getting closer to Valen. With a smile, he looked up at his Boss's familiar face. The top half was covered by the hood, the lower half frozen in an emotionless expression - but it _was_ familiar. Satisfied, he resumed looking ahead.

The bridge connected to a thick stone platform, which rose up out of the black nothingness below. Either it was as long and bottomless as the pit itself, or at some point further down it was suspended by magic. Regardless, the trio stepped out onto it, pausing and making sure it was safe before continuing on. They'd gone five paces, when a burst of white fire came out of nowhere in front of them.

"None shall pass into the inner sanctum without first speaking the word of passage, as given unto me by the Maker himself," the fire spoke in a high, strange voice. "Speak the word or face the consequences of your ignorance."

"This one knows not the word," Umbra said bluntly. The white flame vanished, its voice lingering just long enough to preach, "Those who do not know the word must be destroyed. Thus sayeth the Maker."

Valen shook his head in exasperation, giving Umbra a look of disapproval and incredulity as he drew his flail. "You know, if you didn't know the word you could have at least guessed!"

"Of what use would that have been?" she asked. Valen started to respond, but was interrupted by a series of loud rumbles that rocked the ground and nearly knocked Deekin over. Getting up, he saw two curious figures approach. They were golems, large, hunched-over and metal, with jointed parts like most, more practical than artistic. They had odd, monkeylike head with blazing blue eyes, and each bore a blue spotlight in the center of its chest. Deekin would have spent more time observing them, but unfortunately, they didn't look friendly.

Umbra's first instinct was to cover her companions and herself with an invisibility spell. The golems didn't look impressed (not that they could have if they tried), reaching through the bubble of shadow and smacking Umbra to the ground. The invisibility spell shattered, but it hadn't done them much good in the first place. The golem raised its hog-sized fist, and slammed it down so hard it created a crater in the ground, narrowly missing Umbra as she rolled out of the way and grabbed her swords.

"I'm free! I'm fr - " Enserric was cut off as Umbra struck the golem with him. "**OW! BLOODY HELLS, THAT HURTS!**"

"What..." Umbra trailed off. The blow had succeeded in snapping Enserric's blade in half, but the golem bore not even a scratch, and she'd hit it as hard as she could. Meanwhile, fighting the other golem, Valen was having slightly more luck - that is, he'd managed to scratch it. Deekin somehow doubted his skinny little rapier would succeed where Enserric and Valen's well-crafted flail had failed, so instead focused on casting buffing and healing spells on Umbra and Valen while avoiding getting stepped on by the golems.

"Oh, sure, heal the demon!" Enserric shouted at him. "Nevermind the broken - " Umbra slid both swords back into the criss-crossed sheaths on her back before Enserric could finish. Getting a safe distance from the golem, she positioned her hands and muttered spellwords. In response, a fountain of fire erupted on the golem simultaneously from above and below, heating it to insanely high temperatures while Umbra beat out a few embers that had landed on her robe and prepared another spell. While the golem still blazed, it was suddenly beset by a huge blast of electricity. Seconds later, a shower of acid rain joined the attack. Two large balls of fire and a carpet of shadow later, Umbra paused to regain some energy. The fire's arcane fuel diminished and the acid storm dwindled to nothing, clearly showing a significantly blackened golem figure. Seeing this, Deekin breathed a sigh of relief. Then the shadows withdrew.

Not even a scratch; the golem's surface gleamed as brilliantly as new. At the most, the spells had cleaned it. Umbra stood in shock, a perfect target. The golem aimed a punch, but she ducked just in time, backing away and avoiding its attacks as she tried to think.

"**AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRGHH!**" Valen shouted as his opponent delivered a tremendous hit to his entire front torso, then another to his back. His armor just barely cushioned the blow. Sprawled out on the ground, Valen shoved to his knees, spat out some blood and tried to get up, but the golem sent him rolling five feet with a well-aimed kick. Reaching him in two steps, the golem raised its foot above the beaten tiefling and prepared the finishing blow...

Then decided it would rather squash a kobold. This caught Deekin off guard, but he was small and nimble enough to evade. He aimed a sonic blast at the construct's knee; the sonic attack jarred the joint slightly, the equivalent of trying to stab an orc with a blunt pencil. In other words, it was good as nothing. The golem brought its foot down to stamp on Deekin, again, and again, and again, missing but getting closer each time. Deekin was running from it as fast as he could, but the golem was surprisingly agile and quick for a construct, especially one so old. A pained groan from a barely conscious Valen reminded Deekin of the tiefling's condition, but at this rate there was no way Deekin could stop long enough to heal him. Deekin suddenly noticed a dark shadow surrounding him, growing larger by the moment. With a mild shriek, he leapt aside just before the golem's foot descended. Relieved, he started to get up - but was stopped by a shooting pain in his tail. Whirling around, he gaped. The golem was stepping on his tail! Deekin grabbed his tail and yanked as hard as he could, but it was no use. He was stuck. The kobold tremored as the golem noticed this, and began to ball its fist...

A light _ping_ noise suddenly resounded. Two more, three more, seven more soon followed, the sounds of rocks pelting the golem's back. Staying in place, the golem swiveled its monkey-head entirely around in time to get a stone in its left eye. The stone-thrower was Umbra.

"Leave him!" she commanded, just avoiding a dire blow from the second golem. "Face this one!" The golem did not understand her words, but it understand that she was slightly more of a threat than the lizard it had by the tail. Lifting its foot and freeing Deekin, the golem turned around and stomped toward Umbra.

"BOSS!" Deekin yelped, broken tail shuddering feebly as he got to his feet and ran toward her. The two golems were advancing on Umbra quickly now, together pressing her to the edge. Umbra backed up until she could back up no more - then leapt backwards off the platform. Possessing no rational thought, the golems plummeted right after.

"BOSS!" Deekin screamed, sprinting to edge.

"UMBRA!" That was Valen's cry, Deekin realized. Valen staggered over to edge as quickly as his injuries would allow. Together, the tiefling and the kobold stared down into the endless pitch.

"She gave herself up for us," Valen whispered. "I don't believe it."

"Deekin believes it," Deekin said sadly.

"Believe what?" Umbra wondered.

There was a long pause as this registered. The other two looked around to see Umbra standing behind them.

"Boss!" Deekin cried gleefully, jumping to his feet. "You be alive!"

"How did you - " Valen stopped and winced at a pain in his insides. "How did you survive?"

"That is not important." She cast a series of healing spells, mending Valen's worst injuries and Deekin's crushed tail.

"Thanks, Boss," he smiled gratefully, rubbing it. "That hurt lots." Valen was quiet as Umbra healed them. At last, he spoke.

"What you did was very noble, Umbra," he said. There was something in his voice Deekin had never heard in it before... respect.

"This one thanks you," she returned.

"Don't," he sighed, getting to his feet and bowing slightly, which must have been difficult even after the healing. "I should be thanking you... and..." He scratched between his horns nervously. "I have been wrong about something. I owe you an apology."

"An apology?" Umbra repeated. "For what?"

Valen pondered for a moment, obviously going over what he wanted to say in his head. "Ever since the Seer foretold your coming, I have resented you. A little." He sighed. "I think... I think it was more because I wanted to be the one who kept the Seer safe. I had been working so long to save the rebels I did not want someone bursting in and taking all the credit. So I convinced myself you could not be trusted, that perhaps the Seer's vision was wrong. And yet, here you have proven yourself to be more than trustworthy. I... am very sorry."

"Thank-you, Valen," Umbra accepted. "This one appreciates your candor."

"I am glad," he smiled. "It has been good to fight at your side so far on this journey. I begin to believe that perhaps we really will win against the Valsharess."

"Perhaps we shall," Umbra agreed. "For now, you two should rest. Then, we may find the Maker."

Valen nodded, lowering himself back into a sitting position. "Of course."

"This one shall keep guard," Umbra noted, turning her back to them. "You may rest your eyes." Deekin started to, until he realized that Valen wasn't. The tiefling was still watching Umbra... and he was still smiling. Eventually he closed his eyes, but Deekin found himself too tense to rest. He pulled out his notebook and started writing, but he couldn't get the way Valen had looked at Umbra off his mind. Two sentences later, he closed his book back up and looked back to Umbra with a sad half-smile. Perhaps it was because not three minutes ago he'd thought her gone - but no, they'd had numerous close calls on their adventures. So why did his heart ache so?

* * *

When Valen finished resting, the trio picked themselves up and continued on. At the end of the platform was what a first glance appeared to be a wall, but upon further inspection proved to be a vertically opening gate, which Valen managed to shove down far enough they were able to climb over it, Deekin with some help from Umbra. While grateful for her aid, the kobold couldn't help but feel a little ashamed of needing to be helped with such a trivial thing. His shame was quickly forgotten, however, when he saw the room beyond the door. 

Well, it wasn't the room that was so astounding - it was a typical wizard's lab, with shelves of books, chests of scrolls, arcane writings on the floors, the only difference being the chunks of metal and beautifully carved golem parts scattered about the place as opposed to bottles of neon potions and other alchemical resources. No, what truly captured the eye here was the Maker himself. That is, what remained of the Maker: a duergar skull, broad and squat, lined with glittering gems and floating in midair, suspended by brilliant energies that left an imprint on the insides of Deekin's eyelids if he stared too long.

The skull zipped around the room busily, checking here and there, levitating random objects to inspect them and carefully setting them down again, fluttering open book pages and making notes with a quill that seemed to have a life of its own. At last, he noticed - or decided to notice - the intruders to his sanctum, addressing them in a raspy, disembodied voice. Surprisingly, he sounded impatient, rather than malevolent.

"I do not recognize you as one of my creations," he noted. "What manner of creature are you, that would invade my inner sanctum? Who are you, that dares to intrude upon my work?"

"You be the Maker?" Deekin questioned. The skull exuded a sound that might have been a sigh.

"Once I was called Alsigard, known to many as the Maker," he verified, scanning several books which orbited in slow circles around him and making revisions in them even as he spoke. "But now I have transcended the weakness of my flesh and body, and I am not what I once was."

"Yeah, now you is nothing but floating skull," Deekin agreed. "Deekin wonders: you floats all the time? Or maybe sometimes you just rolls around on floor like a ball?" The Maker stopped dead in the middle of his work, letting the books snap closed and return to their shelves.

"What an insolent question," he said stiffly. "No, kobold, I have never once 'rolled.' Do you have any more fatuous inquiries for me, or are you through here?" Deekin blinked.

"Well, first Deekin gots to figures out what 'fatuous' means before he answers you," he decided, opening his own book and jotting something down. The Maker made that sighing sound again, levitating another book and running through the pages with unseen magics.

"We have come to bargain with you," Umbra told him. The Maker had no eyeballs, so Deekin couldn't be sure if he was rudely keeping to his book or looking at Umbra as she spoke (he suspected the former).

"Bargain with me about what?" he questioned bluntly. He didn't seem concerned with this intrusion in the least. Deekin was suddenly reminded of Tymofarrar.

"Your golems wish to be freed," Valen answered.

"Which ones?" asked the Maker.

"The sentient ones," Valen responded.

"Which ones?" the Maker repeated. There was a long silence as the trio looked to each other uncomfortably. "Well?"

"How many are there?" Valen puzzled.

"How many do you think I've made in over half a millenium?" the Maker retorted. "My dungeon is immense and vastly inaccessible. I doubt you've explored even a hundredth of it." Another silence as this sank in.

"Ferron and his followers wish to be freed," Umbra clarified at last. The Maker turned upward thoughtfully.

"Ferron... Ferron... ah, yes! Ferron. Tell him he can go," the skull said, turning back to his work. "No, nevermind. I'll tell him myself. Now leave my sight, won't you?"

"But - " Deekin started.

"You want help in the war against the Valsharess," the Maker stated calmly. "I know. Don't worry, I'll send reinforcements. I may be a reclusive old skull, but I'm not a fool." The skull paused. "Before you go, though... give me that sword of yours."

"Which one?" Deekin asked.

"The talking one, of course!" the Maker scoffed.

"What do you want with him?" Umbra asked cautiously.

"His soul, what else?" the Maker replied. "Such a rare thing, to find a soul fused with metal... he would make a fine golem, perhaps even a perfect golem, and I doubt he's of much use to you broken anyway."

"How you knows he be broken? " Deekin asked.

"With all the noise he's making about it, it would be difficult not to," the Maker said dryly. At his bidding, Enserric floated out of the scabbard, tremoring violently as he ranted.

" - AND IN ALL MY LIFE OR WHATEVER YOU CALL IT, NEVER HAVE I BEEN SO INSULTED! I HAVE WOUNDS TOO, GODS DAMN IT, AND THEY NEED TO BE TENDED TO LIKE ANY OTH - " Enserric cut himself short, noticing where he was. "Ah. What's with the floating skull?"

"I am a demilich," the Maker said haughtily, "not a mere 'floating skull', as you so incognizantly put it. You had best show me some respect, sword, as _I_ am the only one who can create a fully functioning body for you."

"Oh?" Enserric sounded cautiously optimistic. "As good as my old one?"

"Better," the Maker promised.

"Ah," Enserric said. "Dare I ask why you couldn't be bothered to fashion one for yourself?"

"Because I have no need for one," the demilich responded, levitating Enserric over to a table and setting him down. "As I'm sure you can plainly tell. Stay there, and I'll get to you."

"It's not as though I bloody well _can_ go anywhere, is it?" the broken sword grumbled as the Maker returned his attention to the adventurers.

"Now be off with you." And before the trio could say anything else, there was flash of blinding light, and the Maker and his sanctum were gone. Now, the three stood in an unknown part of the open Underdark. There was a third silence, much longer and more confused than the two preceding it. At last, Valen spoke.

"I think this is a good place to set up camp," he remarked.

"Deekin agrees," Deekin nodded. Umbra had no complaints.

* * *

"Set up camp" was another way of saying "lay out some blankets and maybe some food we took with us, eat and sleep until we feel like adventuring again." So that's what Deekin and Valen did, while Umbra wandered off somewhere when no one was looking. Valen made a comment about this, but Deekin shrugged and explained to him the Boss's peculiar tendencies. After a while, Valen fell into a slumber. Breathing a sigh of relief, Deekin sneaked out of camp as well. 

Umbra hadn't gone far; he found her standing at the edge of a cliff, overlooking the jagged, barren gray plains of the Underdark. Deekin stepped up beside her quietly, and for a while they simply stood there and looked on. Umbra was the first to speak.

"How are you liking it here, Deekin?" she asked him.

"Deekin likes Underdark very well," he replied. "It not much to looks at, but it be even neater than books say it is! We not even be here that long, and look at all the neat stuffs we sees!"

"If you are glad, then this one is glad," she said, resting a hand on his head gently. Deekin smiled. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, "What you sees in Deekin's eyes, Boss?" Umbra studied him for a while.

"This one sees someone she is very fond of," she told him. "Someone very kind, and caring. This one sees her friend." Her face never smiled; her voice smiled for her. Deekin smiled in return.

"Can Deekin sees your eyes, Boss?" he wondered. Umbra was dead silent. Deekin shivered despite himself.

"No," she answered, hand slipping off his head without regard for the horns.

"Why?" he pressed.

"This one cannot."

"But why?"

"You need not know."

"But, Boss - "

"You should return to camp, Deekin," she instructed, turning around and walking away. "Your kind needs sleep."

"Deekin's kind - but BOSS!" Umbra did not respond. She only kept walking, until the darkness enveloped her entirely. Deekin stood in place for a long, silent while before he trudged back to camp.

* * *

(Yes, I know I changed the Maker completely. I'm a big fan of liches of any kind, and thought that BioWare gave him a very dull personality. Originally, I was going to stay true to the game, but this version of him popped up while I was writing and I just went along with it :) 


	12. Doomed Again

(A/N: Thanks to everyone for the reviews! To Dragoon of Light: The idea of Enserric the golem terrifies me, too. To everyone who thought my version of the Maker was cool: Thanks! To everyone who asked about Umbra: You'll just have to wait and see...

Disclaimer: Neverwinter Nights not mine.)

* * *

Chapter Twelve

_"And I sssee you. I sssee how death clingsss to you, how the shadowsss cling to you. Your life hasss long been over..."_ Deekin awoke to those words clinging to his mind. As his eyes adjusted to his surroundings, he remembered that those had been Heurodis's words to Umbra, shortly before the medusa's death and Undrentide's second fall. To this day, they puzzled him, and the way Umbra had acted last night (last day? It was impossible to keep track in the Underdark) only made him wonder all the more what Heurodis had meant.

"About time you woke up." It took the kobold a few moments to realized Valen had spoken. Deekin looked over to see the tiefling sitting cross-legged on a blanket opposite him.

"How long you be awake?" Deekin asked, stretching his short limbs and climbing into a standing position.

"Long enough to figure out where we are," the tiefling responded with a satisfied smile, unfurling a piece of parchment and turning the written side toward Deekin. The kobold studied it for a moment so before meeting Valen's gaze with some puzzlement.

"That be bunch of dots, mean goat man," the kobold noticed. Valen sighed, but had gotten somewhat used to Deekin's Deekinness by now. Besides, he was in a good mood.

"The black dots are stalagmites," he explained. "The green ones are stalactites."

"Right... ummm... which ones hangs from ceilings again?"

"Stalactites. Stalagmites are the ones on the ground."

"Oh, okies." Deekin had already gotten out his notebook, and wrote this down. "Why there be dots on map, though?"

"It's harder to tell terrain apart in the Underdark than it is on the surface, so subterranean cartographers use these dots to distinguish areas." Valen tapped a spot on the odd map, then ran his finger in a small circle around it. "Do you see these dots?"

"Deekin not be blind," Deekin scoffed, looking up briefly from writing. Valen couldn't help but wonder how the kobold could already have so much writing material. Unless, of course, he was recording yesterday's events from memory, in which case Valen doubted the tale's accuracy. Regardless, the tiefling pointed in order to several stalactites and stalagmites in the surrounding area, then pointed in the same order to identically aligned dots on the map.

"That's where we are," he informed with some pride. Deekin was quiet, though his pen was not.

"Why you not uses map earlier?" he asked at last.

"Because we weren't anywhere near being on the map then," Valen answered. His finger trailed much farther down to another part of the map. "The cave of beholders serving the Valsharess is down here. Obviously, that should be our next goal. We'll set off" - his voice turned to a grumble - "as soon as your master decides to show up. Do you have any idea where she might be?"

"With Boss, nobody knows," Deekin shrugged. "She just wander off sometimes, as long as Deekin know her. Deekin not knows why." This answer clearly didn't please Valen, who rolled up the map and returned it to a satchel on his belt. Deekin reached into his own pack, got a piece of jerky and started to gnaw on it. Valen shot him a deadly glare that halted the kobold in mid-chew.

"I wouldn't recommend that," he advised. "Gods know how long we could be out here, and the wild Underdark isn't a bountiful place. We should preserve our food supplies."

"But Deekin be hungry!" the kobold whined.

"You ate last night," Valen said coolly. "If you wanted breakfast, you shouldn't have eaten dinner." Deekin had read many books, and though epic tales usually polished over the parts about limited rations, he knew the tiefling was right. He returned the meat jerky to his pack, but the growling of his stomach didn't make it any easier.

"Oh, there you are Umbra," Valen said suddenly.

"Huh?" Deekin turned his head to see Umbra standing directly behind him and started, though he knew he should be used to her sudden appearances by now.

"This one has brought food," she told them, reaching into her pack.

"Oh?" Valen brightened, just before Umbra dropped a cat-sized black spider carcass to the ground. "...oh."

"Yippee!" Deekin cheered, breaking off a limb and crunching on the foot. Noticing Valen's obvious distaste, Deekin assured him, "No worries, Valen. Spider be dead, see?" He picked the spider up by a leg and shook it; the leg broke off, letting the spider fall again.

"I see," Valen replied. "You can have my share. I'm... not hungry."

"You isn't?" The kobold looked to Umbra. "Is you hungry, Boss?"

"This one is not," Umbra refused politely.

"You never is," Deekin sighed. "Oh well. All the more for Deekin." He resumed munching on the leg while Valen gave Umbra a confused look. She didn't seem to notice, not that that stiff face told much of anything; Valen decided against saying anything, and instead watched Deekin eat until it occurred to him that he'd rather not.

When Deekin had eaten his fill, he broke the spider corpse up into little pieces and stored it in his pack, chattering something about Lolth and driders that Valen didn't bother to acknowledge. Valen briefly explained to Umbra what the map's dots meant and where they should be headed next, during which she was attentively silent, waiting until he had finished to speak.

"Beholders?" Umbra was thoughtful. "This one encountered a beholder once. Remember, Deekin?" Deekin did. "They can see through invisibility spells. A shame."

"Not really," Valen frowned. "If you rely too heavily on hiding from trouble, you won't be prepared for trouble when it comes your way." Deekin tensed.

"Boss not be coward, Valen," he said. "Boss fights powerful monsters before. It just be good idea to stays out of trouble sometimes, right Boss?"

"Yes, Deekin," she replied. "Though Valen does pose a point as well. Nonetheless, the Valsharess will not wait. We should be off now."

"Indeed," Valen agreed. Deekin sighed, put his notebook away and scrabbled after the other two as they started off. They wove around a few stalactite-stalagmite mergings, wandered over irregular, bumpy ground, avoided some steep drop-offs and scaled others. After some time they came to a stream, which was fortunate. After all that spider-meat (which turned out to be burnt, due to Umbra's fondness of fire spells) Deekin was terribly thirsty. Valen wasn't as parched, but drank anyway, splashing some water on his face as well to wash off accumulated sweat and grime. After this, the two dumped out the stale water out of their canteens and filled them in the stream, and all the while Umbra just stood back and watched. Valen thought this more than a little suspicious, but didn't comment on it. They continued on.

It was a ridiculously long walk to the beholder caves. Valen consulted his map regularly, to make sure they were on the right track, while Deekin wrote off and on. When he couldn't think of anything to write, he added details to his Valen caricature, which was so mutilated by now he suspected he would soon have to start a new one. He started to whistle the Doom Song, found himself incapable of whistling, and hummed it instead. Humming wore into chanting, chanting wore into singing, and before long he was playing his much-neglected lute (there just wasn't much time to play a lute on an epic adventure) and belting the Doom Song full-pitch. A sharp look from Valen egged him on, but a sharper look efficiently convinced him to stop. There was a long silence after that.

"Kobold, I have a question for you," Valen said at last.

Deekin turned and stared at Valen with wide, surprised eyes. "You gots question for Deekin?"

Valen gritted his teeth. "Yes, but it is one question and one question only. If you attempt to sidetrack me into some tangent with your inanity I shall be forced to behead you."

"Uhh... holds on," Deekin stalled, writing this down. "Tangent... with... inanity... that be good. Deekin remembers that for later." He looked back up at Valen, expression changing with comprehension of what had just been said, fancy wording or no. "You know, mean goat man, Deekin not gets to answers your question if you takes off his head."

"Yes, well... that is a risk I shall have to take," Valen muttered. His good mood had fallen the instant Deekin started singing. "My question is this: this song you're so fond of, where did you learn it?"

"You means the Doom Song?"

"Yes, that's the one. If it keeps running through my head, I swear it'll drive me mad! Where did you learn it? Is it a bardic trick meant to lure the enemy into a crazed frenzy?"

"Uhh... not really. Deekin makes it up one day when he be in desert. Deekin and boss be doomed, he thinking." Valen stared at Deekin for a long moment. The grinding of his teeth was audible.

"And... that's it?"

Deekin quirked a scaly brow. "You gots more than one question?"

"No." Valen stepped back, an act that pleased Deekin greatly in that it distanced him from Umbra. "No, I don't. Forget I said anything at all."

"Deekin forgets already," the kobold promised, writing it down. Valen sighed, shook his head and looked off at the cavelike landscape that abounded around them. It would have been quiet... but for Deekin quietly singing what could only be the Doom Song. Valen swiftly attempted to counter this with a song of his own:

"They say that a lass born in Sigil  
will place her heart in a box  
the key don't you see  
it comes with a fee  
la-ta-ta-la-ta-ta..."

Undeterred, Deekin kept on with the Doom Song. Not one to back down from a challenge, Valen quickly thought of another song:

"Death is the gift  
a blade shall bring  
Death is the gift,  
a blade shall sing..."

Deekin persisted, and Valen found himself repeating those same four lyrics incessantly just to drown the damned kobold's singing out. Deekin, in turn, continued to sing the Doom Song for precisely the same reasons. This must have gone on for five minutes before Umbra broke in.

"This one is suddenly reminded of a human, a half-orc and a dwarf she once knew," she recalled.

"Ooh! This be a joke, Boss?" Deekin wondered.

"No," Umbra said, adding thoughtfully, "but they were." There was another silence after that, as no one could think of anything worthwhile to say.

Then, so quietly no one could hear, Umbra sang:

_"I am the unbeliever,  
a shadow on the planes,  
a whisper true, a song to you,  
my lover's soul refrains..."_

_

* * *

_The rocky ground grew up into a bluff before them, bearing a single round hole in its center. Nothing too impressive; if the map hadn't told them so, the trio wouldn't have recognized this as the beholder hive.

"Here we are," Valen noted as they arrived.

"FINALLY!" Deekin collapsed of exaggerated exhaustion. Valen quickly clamped the kobold's mouth shut and pulled him behind a large rock. Umbra hid as well.

"Keep your voice down!" Valen hissed, pointing over at the hive before Deekin could ask why. A beholder had drifted out of the hole. It checked the area around it briefly before floating back in, failing to notice the threesome.

"They gots no ears," Deekin said. "You be sure they hears us?"

"I'd rather not find out," Valen said dryly, shoving to his feet.

"Why we hides?" Deekin asked. "You says earlier we shouldn't hides behind invisibility spells. Deekin not sees how rock be any better."

"I just don't want the whole hive there waiting for us when we go in," Valen retorted, bounding over to the acclivity. Leaping up, he latched onto the mouth of the entrance and pulled himself in, drawing his flail and motioning for the others to follow. Umbra was next to reel herself up, Deekin following shortly after. He was too short to jump up as the others had, but managed to climb up. It didn't take long for their eyes to adjust. The cave's interior was dark, but luminous mushrooms gave off just enough light for them to see three beholders hovering toward them, eye stalks swiveling and needle teeth gnashing. Perfect; each adventurer took on a beholder. Valen smashed his enemy into a wet pulp, Deekin burst out his opponent's central eye with a sonic attack and then stabbed its odd guts with his rapier, while Umbra roasted her foe with a fire spell. All three beholders fell dead before they could use their treacherous eye spells, or even alert the rest of the hive.

Wiping beholder fluid off his face, Valen glanced about. Assured there was no immediate threat, he remarked, "Their leader, the Eye Tyrant, is going to be somewhere in these tunnels. We need to kill it."

"Deekin keeps his eyes peeled," Deekin replied.

"So will the beholders," Valen grinned. "All dozen or so of them."

"Oh ho ho," Deekin chortled falsely as the party started down the tunnel leading farther in. He could hear odd noises echoing up and down the tunnel's length, but put them out of his head as best he could. Drops of calcite-infused water dripped down on his head; brushing them off with the back of his hand, Deekin decided this was one of many reasons why he'd never missed living in a cave.

"There is an old drow saying about the Underdark, I hear: 'Only death awaits the unwary within its shadows,'" Valen remarked suddenly.

"On the Shadow Plane, that goes without saying," Umbra noted.

"Yes, I suppose it would," Valen agreed. "But at any rate, don't get lost down here. Finding your bearings once you are lost in the shadows is far from simple." There was a long pause. "Oh... you probably know that."

"You would not last for long on the Plane of Shadow, Valen," Umbra said. Deekin smirked to himself; but to his surprise, Valen's reply was not venomous. Rather, he chuckled lightly.

"Maybe not," he said. "But I am a veteran of the Blood Wars. I think I could last for a while, before I died of starvation."

"You would be surprised," Umbra replied. "The Shadows can do strange things to mortals." Before Valen could remind her of his demon blood, she added, "In the Shadows, any of flesh are considered mortal."

"I suppose you would know," the tiefling conceded. "When did you come to Toril?"

"This one had lingered on Toril for many a year, but returned to the Shadows for a time," Umbra noted, unknowingly striking Deekin with a pang of guilt, "so quite recently."

"Interesting," Valen nodded. "I arrived on the Prime some years ago. I must admit, though, I'm curious about your beliefs. Many Shadovar are worshippers of Shar... are you among them?"

"Shar does more harm than good," Umbra told him. Was it just Deekin, or was there a trace of bitterness in her voice? "No, this one does not worship her."

"I have seen my share of greater beings during my time in the planes, or heard about them," Valen commented. " And I know that there are many who have faded away or died... or even been killed at the hands of mortals. To me, this makes them too... familiar to honor in such a personal way, despite the power that I know they have to grant to others." He glanced at Umbra. "I hope that does not sound offensive."

"Not at all, Valen."

"That's good," he smiled. "The Seer has spoken to me often about Eilistraee, the drow goddess that she places her faith in." He frowned. "I cannot feel the same. I do not think she expects me to, yet..." He shrugged helplessly. "Part of me believes I should become more accustomed to the ways of this world. The other part of me says I will always be a planar and I should not try to change that. As a fellow planar... what do you think?" Umbra quietly pondered the question put to her.

"This one has found adapting to Prime as best she can makes things simpler," she replied at last. "Do not force yourself, but do not hesitate to adapt where you can."

Valen nodded slowly. "I suppose it is time that I learned more about this world. Part of the trouble is that I have never been to any of the cities." He looked at Umbra suddenly, getting an idea. "This Waterdeep, the city that the Valsharess is attacking... perhaps I could join you when you return there. Would that be acceptable?" Before Umbra could respond, Deekin broke in.

"Oh, Waterdeep be horrible city!" the kobold told Valen. "Mean people chases Deekin all over, just because he be kobold! They probably be even worse to you. No, you not wants to goes there." There was an awkward silence. Deekin congratulated himself for breaking the moment, but felt a little guilty. The group moved on as normal, but out the corner of his eye, Deekin thought he could see Valen flashing him a glare.

They hadn't gone far before something hit Deekin's head. "Ow!" the kobold muttered, rubbing between his horns and looking up. A bunch of rocks, rubble and dust dropped down from above, which Deekin shut his eyes against just in time. Umbra and Valen, too, noticed this, and drew their weapons. More rubble rained down, and out of the ceiling burst a dozen beholders. Umbra instantly retaliated, roasting quite a few with a fireball spell. Valen smashed two more together in one swing and narrowly avoided an eye laser. A large beholder attempted to scoop Deekin up into its mouth, but the kobold grabbed his rapier and slashed its main eye. The beholder howled, oozing humer, as Deekin finished it off.

"GAH!" Valen cried as he was hit in the shins by an eye spell. His legs were guarded by his armor, but the armor that was struck quickly turned to stone, making walking an increasingly difficult task as the tiefling was forced to drag the stone parts with him. Umbra quickly remedied this with a spell, returning the stone to metal, but not before Deekin saw. He'd been turned to stone before, and would rather not be stone again. Again, a beholder tried to grab Deekin in its mouth; lost in thought, Deekin failed to evade and the beholder succeeded. Needle teeth sinking into his abdomen, Deekin gritted his own teeth and wriggled to get free, but the teeth only dug deeper. Deekin managed to free an arm and slashed upward, striking this beholder in the eye as well. The beholder roared in pain, opening its mouth just enough for the kobold to squirm free.

The distance to the ground was twice Deekin's height. Thinking better of it, he instead crawled on top of the beholder's head. The eye stalks swiveled, neatly arranging themselves around the surmounted kobold and glowing as they prepared to fire. Deekin panicked as he realized what was about to happen, and struck out. His rapier cleaved half the eye stalks, and he jumped up just as those remaining blasted. Landing on the beholder again after the prepared shots had been fired, Deekin sliced these eye stalks off as well. Finding he was on to something, Deekin noticed that another beholder hovered not one foot away. The beholder he was currently perched on swerved and spun, racked with pain, confusion and blindness, making it hard to hold on to. Deekin leapt off just as Valen took advantage of this and smashed the beholder dead, landing again on the next beholder. Now that he knew what he was doing, Deekin made short work of it, easily slicing this beholder's eye stalks off as well. When this was accomplished, he leapt onto the closest and did the same. In this fashion, Deekin stripped the beholders of all their eye stalks. Not only was it easier for Umbra and Valen to avoid shots when each beholder had only one eye to be concerned about, the beholders were so distressed by the loss of their eyes that they were easy targets. At this rate, it didn't take the trio long to defeat them.

Valen clattered to the ground, leaning against the tunnel's wall and laying his flail to the side as he rested. Summoning his magics, Deekin healed over the spots where the tiefling and himself had been hit - mostly just cauterized wounds, the beholders were very fond of those lasers. When Deekin had successfully healed them up, he looked over to Umbra. She stood just in front of them, examining the tunnel ahead, behind, above and below for signs of more beholders. She didn't act wounded... but then, when did she ever? It was impossible to tell if she was hurt under that thick, self-mending robe. Deekin cast a healing spell on her, just in case.

"What is - " Umbra cut herself off, collapsing and convulsing and twisting at painful-looking angles. The episode was brief - over by the time a worried Valen and Deekin made it to her side - but disturbing.

"What happened!" Valen demanded. Umbra swiftly stood up.

_"It was nothing,"_ she dismissed. For a moment, her voice sounded strange, faded. "Let us continue."

"You sure you be alright, Boss?" Deekin looked at her with concern. She had reacted just as he cast the healing spell, and he couldn't help but feel it was some fault of his own.

"This one is fine," she insisted, starting ahead. "Come." Uneasily, Deekin did so. Valen stood his ground.

"What happened?" Valen repeated, calmly this time. His tail switched. "Or don't you know?"

"This one does not know," Umbra replied. Her face was still as ever, but her voice did not cloak the lie.

"You do know," Valen said, then sighed and joined the others. "But you obviously don't want to tell us. I'll respect that."

"Thank-you," Umbra said gratefully. After that, all three were silent, though their thoughts were far from it. Valen ran over the previous event in his head, nitpicking it suspiciously, while Deekin was terrified that something had been wrong with his spell and he'd horribly injured the Boss. As for Umbra? Her only fear was that her secret was being revealed.

* * *

(I hope you enjoyed that chapter. And yes, I know that last song was originally Valen's, but thought it was better suited to Umbra.)  



	13. Eye Of The Beholder

(A/N: Looks like I have some new reviewers! I'm glad you're enjoying the fic so far. Thanks for reviewing, reviewers new and old. I thought I should point something out: in my fanfic, Deekin has white dragon blood, not red. I mean, how did a kobold living in an obsure cave under a white dragon get red dragon blood in the first place? Besides, the kobolds of the Nether Mountains have to have white dragon blood in them somewhere... how else could the cold-blooded reptilians survive the cold? Personally, I think Deekin's red dragon blood was just an excuse to show off the new red dragon disciple class...

To Dragoon of Light: Here's another note! Remember, Shadovar are just a kind of human. Think about it... what is injured by healing spells? To Kaze no kage: Thanks for reviewing! Best NwN fanfic out there? I feel so special! Don't worry, the InuYasha fanfic is more of a fun side project. I'm very serious about my NwN fanfic, I just ran into a patch of writer's block.

Finally, I highly recommend reading WitchWolf's "Clash of Shadows." It's about Shi'van, a shadowdancer trapped in the Underdark, but separates from other Underdark fanfics past that. Shi'van's merciless decisions leave some wary of her, and a certain tiefling wishing she'd just drop dead... read the fic. It's rated M, but you'll like it, trust me. Plus, reading the latest chapter might give you a hint about Umbra's secret - which, by the way, I'd like to start seeing some input on. What do you think Umbra's secret is? Let's see who gets closest before I reveal it.

Disclaimer: Insert generic Neverwinter Nights disclaimer.)

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

Deekin set down his quill and looked ahead. Water dripped from the tunnel's ceiling, pooling in puddles on the rock floor and moistening the air. The deeper they went, the damper it seemed to get. He suspected they would soon come across a pool. His gaze switched to Umbra. She seemed to be fine now, and answered that she was every time he asked; still, he couldn't help but feel overhung by a cloud of guilt. If anything happened to her... he'd never forgive himself.

The trio hadn't encountered any beholders for a while now. The tunnel never branched off, always leading a straight path into the hive. (This was most likely leading to a trap, but there was no alternative.) As with the first group, some of the beholders dropped out of concealed openings in the ceilings. Most, however, appeared in flashes of light, transported by teleportation spells or quick-vanishing portals. They always appeared in large groups, thinking there to be strength in numbers. However, they dealt with Valen, a survivor of the Blood Wars who had time and again vanquished an entire field of devils; Umbra, the most skilled apprentice of a powerful wizard, as well as former servant and bodyguard of a shadow lich, who had oft fought back countless malevolent embodiments of shadow; and Deekin, the single strongest (though too humble and skittish to have realized it) kobold of his clan, infused with the blood of his draconic master somewhere down the line, and tactically advanced when fighting in conjunction with Umbra. Tipping the scale further in their favor, the triad learned more about the beholders' strengths and weaknesses with each victory, so that the more beholders were sent after them, the more expert at defeating them the three became. Realizing this, the aberrations had halted their siege, unwilling to lose more of their numbers so foolishly, and perhaps busy devising a better strategy.

Deekin's prediction proved true. Before long, the trio was slogging through a dip in the ground filled with water which burbled up from an underground spring. The waters were knee-deep on the others, but chest-high on the unfortunate kobold. He held his book high over his head to avoid soaking it in the pool, but several fat waterdrops fell from above and stained the cover anyway. They waded for a half-minute or so, before the tunnel rose back up out of the pool. Deekin grimaced as he inspected his book's water damage, then noticed Umbra squeezing water out of her robes. He wondered if she was starting to wish her robe was waterproof. He knew he wished his book was. Deekin flipped through the pages, found no further harm done, and closed the book back up. He found his gaze on Umbra again, and smiled as he watched her give up on wringing the robe dry and start ahead. Valen rolled his eyes and was next to follow, while Deekin shook some water off his pant leg and skittered after.

This tunnel was getting rather monotonous. The only entertainment was provided on two occasions, when Valen smacked into first a stalactite and then a stalagmite; he couldn't see in the dark as well as the kobold or the Shadow Plane native. Deekin stifled a snicker both times, and though Umbra's face was ever stone-still, he could sense she was amused as well. The tiefling would grumble and shuffle onward, though he didn't seem as indignant about it as Deekin would have expected. Valen was getting used to traveling with the two, unfortunate incidents and all.

Valen's flail lashed out in an instant. Deekin froze; the flail found its mark. With a particularly wet, squishy noise, a fat brown globe was stricken dead and fell to the ground, bouncing a few inches before settling. Deekin and Umbra studied the odd thing with some curiosity. It was a beholder, but not like the others they had seen. Its tentacles ringed the face in a halo, as opposed to being nestled atop the skull, and in place of a large central eye the beholder bore numerous small eyes over its entire being, some burst from the force of Valen's blow.

"What be that?" Deekin awed.

"A monitor," Valen answered grimly. His grip on the flail was tense, ready. "Someone knows we're here." Deekin gaze drifted further down the tunnel, which rose up again, blocking his view. Yet, he could hear something moving. Make that several somethings. A dozen? Deekin slowly pulled out his rapier, and glanced Umbra sliding her sword out of its sheath. A fleet of dazzling eye-rays shot from down from ahead, the threesome jumping out of the way just in time to avoid being barbecued. Umbra prepared an incantation and sent a blast of fire flowing up the tunnel's length. There was a fizzling sound, and several shrieks, followed by the sound of multiple somethings dropping to the ground. Another series of eye-blasts, which Umbra responded to by sending up another giant fireball. More shrieks, more dropping to the ground; it was nigh impossible to avoid a fire blast that took up the entire tunnel.

There was a long pause, as the triad and their unseen opponents each waited for the other side to reveal themselves and attack directly. It was the eye-casters who gave in in the end, realizing that at close range their rays would have a better chance of hitting, whereas Umbra's fireball attack would keep getting to them regardless. There was the sound of footfalls as the strangers approached. Valen and Umbra thought nothing of it, but something occurred to Deekin.

"Umm... beholders floats, doesn't they?" he wondered.

"Of course," Valen scoffed, then realized why Deekin had asked. The new foes skulked down from their seclude, cloaked in the tunnel's shadows but bearing distinctly humanoid shapes. Random points along their bodies gleamed in the dark, lit by their own glow, the generated light reflecting off the bladed weapons they held in their hands. There must have been at least a dozen of the creatures.

"Those be drow?" Deekin stared at the newcomers, trying to discern specific features. A true bard, more immediately concerned about the quality of his tale than the consequences of stalling to ask questions. The others were warriors, not minstrels, and did not hesitate to act. Umbra was first, raising a shield of shadows just as the glittering points on the humanoid's bodies fired potent eye rays. The shadows absorbed the blows effectively before sinking back to their natural pools. While the foes recharged, Umbra unleashed a chain of spells on them, and Valen moved to smash his flail into an enemy's head. This close, he could see that their opponents _were_ drow... sort of. The one he'd targeted stepped back from the blow and brought her scimitar up to meet his neck, though he parried neatly and slammed the blade into the wielder's own throat. As she choked on her own blood and slumped to the ground, Valen hurled his flail at her temple and finished the job... but not before realizing it was five red eyes he saw glaring up at him from the dying drow's face, not two.

"These are not normal drow!" he warned his allies, ducking as a kama swooped over his head. "They're eyetouched!"

"Eyetouched?" Deekin murmured, casting a dizzying Color Spray spell on a few. He'd read of them, of course, but thought them only myths! The eyetouched were otherwise normal creatures, anything from humans to wolves, who had been endowed with the powers of the beholders by the beholders themselves. This meant that numerous eyes covered their bodies, all capable of firing lasers and spells almost as devastating as those of a true beholder. Could Valen be overreacting? No - as Umbra hacked a drow's leg off at the knee, the severed shin fell out of the armor, and Deekin very clearly saw three eyes blinking out of the shin's gray flesh. And, now that he was looking for them, he could see revealed eyes winking out of unlikely surfaces on every drow - an eye on that woman's nose, eight on that one's collarbone, one on a tentacle-like stalk growing out of that man's ear. Eyetouched drow... he supposed it made sense, perhaps moreso than an eyetouched wolf or human, considering they were an Underdark race. This meant that they willingly served the aberrations, but he'd known people to worship stranger. "The Cult of the Cheese" was one religion that would never leave Deekin's mind.

Valen, meanwhile, was taking on two eyetouched at once. The tiefling leapt aside as the twinning assailants struck out, clashing swords with one another. Valen took the opportunity to clash together their heads, bearing a smirk. He thrust a leg out behind him just after doing so, kicking the inevitable backstabber in the chest (there was at least one in every drow battle, he had many times learned). The kick knocked the wind out of the sneak, who stopped to catch his breath and instead caught a flail in the spine. Killing one opportunist, however, left Valen bait for another. Though his armor got the brunt of it, an eye-spell struck Valen square in the lower back. Overwhelmed by tingling waves of paralysis, the tiefling staggered over to the tunnel's side and leaned himself against it, sliding down awkwardly as he became paralyzed entirely from the shoulders down.

An eyetouched took advantage of this in an instant, looming over the afflicted tiefling smugly, basking in the chance to stand superior above one so much stronger than himself. He also felt the need to rub it in, all nine eyes sparkling gleefully as he leaned and shoved his face into Valen's own, baring his teeth and hissing. As a distant relative of humans, his blunt, squarish teeth weren't all that impressive. In reply, Valen snarled and revealed a mouthful of demonic fangs; his were. Thrusting his neck up, Valen bit onto one of the eyetouched's eyes and tore it out. The drow screeched and stumbled back, clapping a hand over his face to stifle the blood flow, panicking and shooting eye-rays up at the ceiling... then screaming again as he shot through his own hand. Fast-acting, the paralysis spell was also fast-fading; Valen soon regained control of his upper body, dragging himself over to the screaming drow. Latching onto the drow's leg, Valen yanked it out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor. The drow's face met his, eyes glowing hatefully as they prepared to fire. Valen's own eyes were bright crimson as he aimed a punch, connecting with the drow's jaw with such momentum the head twisted 360 degrees, killing the fool. Three more drow ran over, foolish as the first. Valen growled, his tail lashing out and slicing clear through the drows' legs. Losing their footing with their feet, the drow moaned in horror as they bled, and a demon-blood pounced.

Deekin, who had previously been concerning himself with casting clouds of gas and sprays of color around the area to sting the eyetouched's eyes, suddenly found himself engaged in battle with a drow angered by the kobold's background antics. The drow brought his sword down again and again (using eye-rays occasionally but not as skilled with them as his fellows), and while Deekin managed to sidestep the blade each time, sometimes fending it off with the aid of his rapier, he was no swordsman and couldn't keep it up. It was then, looking up to evade as the drow attempted to bring the sword down on his head, that he noticed a large stalactite hanging far above from the ceiling. An idea crossed his mind. Muttering under his breath, Deekin wove his fingers in the proper motions and began carefully stepping back.

"Vith! Olot dos, rath'arg!" the drow cursed, accidentally shoving his sword into the rock ground where Deekin had been. He gripped the hilt and struggled to pull it out.

"Deekin not knows what that means," Deekin noted, activating the spell with a smile, "but, you too." The drow looked at him quizzically, then gaped as an eye on the top of his head saw what was to befall him. He tried to dodge, but too late - the sonic spell Deekin cast had broken the giant stalactite off the tunnel ceiling, its weight causing it to fall all the faster, and it cleaved the drow through where it didn't crush him.

During all this, Umbra made admirable use of sword and spell, beheading a drow here, incinerating a drow there. Occasionally, she would be stabbed, even lasered by the eyetouched, but her robe always mended itself over and Umbra herself never seemed any the worse for it. Working together, the three vanquished most of the eyetouched. The lone survivor panicked, drew open a luminous green portal from thin air and jumped through. The portal began to implode, but Umbra quickly prepared and cast a Hold Portal spell on it.

"As it will not hold long, we had best hurry," she instructed. "This should lead to where we need to be." Deekin was first to attempt to go through; however, the portal was an entire foot over his head, and there were no footholds to clamber up in midair. Umbra helped him through, much to the kobold's embarrassment, and the others were soon to follow. The portal closed up shortly after. If there were any second thoughts, it was too late for them.

The area around them was darker than the one before it, but Deekin could feel ground beneath his feet. His eyes swiftly adjusted, and he saw that this was another tunnel, albeit a much larger, slimier and rockier tunnel. Umbra stood not far from him, Valen not far from her. There were no enemies to be seen, the surviving eyetouched having fled from view. Deekin gave a sigh of relief - then noticed a peculiar red light. Deekin looked around for the light source, and found it was Valen's eyes. The tiefling was hunched over, shivering and panting heavily.

"Is something the matter, Valen?" Umbra quested. Valen shivered again; Deekin wasn't sure if that was a nod. The tiefling slammed his flail into the ground loudly, forcing himself up into a standing position. His eyes flickered from scarlet to azure rapidly, dizzying to look at and more so to look though, but he managed to set his shifting gaze upon Umbra.

"It's my demonic blood. It's hard to control it, even harder after a fight, because... well, as a planar, you know of the Blood Wars, of course?"

"The ongoing battles of the fiends," Umbra avered.

"I was... recruited into those battles." He looked away from her, his eyes settling on dull blue and taking on a haunted cast. "For years I fought in the Outer Planes as something less than a soldier... I was a beast. Sometimes, when I fight, that side of me that fought in the Blood Wars comes back out..."

"Why you not fights if you not likes it?" Deekin wondered. Valen's eyes blazed red again, but he managed to keep his voice level.

"I had little choice. I was a slave, you see, the property of my demonic master, Grimash't. He threw me into each battle and I fought to survive."

"A slave, then?" Umbra said suddenly. "This one was a slave herself, once, though servant by title."

"Really?" Blue crept back into Valen's eyes as he looked to Umbra again. "What was your master like?"

"He was no demon," Umbra noted. "Merely a shadow lich. He was a tyrant, however... the Shadovar under his rule lived in constant fear of him. And... of this one." Deekin's eyes widened in astonishment, and Valen looked no less surprised.

"Why were they afraid of you?" Valen asked.

"M'lord was not fond of moving from his throne," Umbra began. Stretching out a hand, she studied it, remembering. "When one of his Shadovar misbehaved and refused to come to the throneroom to be punished, it fell upon this one, m'lord's highest servant and guard, to seek the deviant out and exact punishment herself. M'lord made sure this one tortured the misbehaver so thoroughly the punished never disobeyed our lord again."

"You tortures them!" Deekin cried, eyes wider than ever. This was a side of his boss he had never known existed.

"You do not understand," Umbra replied. "This one was not in a position to make her own decisions. This one was her lord's servant, nothing more."

"The Blood Wars made me into the warrior I am," Valen said, gesturing to his heavy flail and green armor. "Though it meant nothing to me. Like you, I was a mindless slave, no more." There was a short silence, a kindling of understanding between the two, and a sinking feeling for Deekin. Valen continued, "My infernal masters encouraged the demonic blood that was within me. I was beholden to it... I reveled in it, and was desperate to please my masters with each opponent I slaughtered. There was nothing in me that was human, and that meant less than nothing to me. Until the Seer found me."

"She came to the Abyss?" queried Umbra. Valen shook his head.

"No. The first time I saw her, I was summoned along with my master to the Prime by a spell... to fight against the Seer, in fact. A drow priestess had called us and so we were beholden to do battle. During the attack I came face to face with the Seer... and she... looked into my soul. I have no other way to describe it."

"This one knows that feeling," Umbra said softly. With the hood covering her eyes, it was impossible for Deekin to notice her gaze was on him.

"We were banished back to the planes, but the memory of the Seer stayed with me," Valen reminisced. "It haunted my dreams." Valen closed his eyes, shuddering. "For the first time in decades, I began to remember the life I once had, before the Blood Wars. The bizarrely beautiful streets of the City of Doors; the many planars, each more extraordinary than the first; the sweet fruits I stole to get by; the kindness of the occasional stranger; the ability to make my own decisions..."

"It must have been wonderful to have such memories to fall back on," Umbra noted with a touch of sadness. Valen opened his eyes, gazing at her curiously.

"You had no good memories?"

"No memories at all," Umbra corrected. "The shadow lich did not wish for his servants to remember a time before their servitude. It was only after this one's escape from the Shadows that she learned the value of such memories." Deekin looked at Umbra, standing there, unmoving and quiet as ever. No memories? He opened his notebook, then closed it again, eyes still trained on her. What must that have been like, surrounded by cold, endlessly dark shadow, bound to do whatever some undead tyrant wanted of you, and have not even the familiar wink of happier times to cheer you?

Valen closed his eyes again. "My master sensed my... difficulty. I was tortured, for months or years... I really could not tell. I only remember that it was agony beyond measure. Demons know how to torture. Eventually I was able to escape Grimash't." For a moment Valen's eyes opened, taking on a haunted look. "I made my way to the Prime, an alien place for a planar such as me, and searched until I found the Seer. She healed my wounds and... spoke to me. She offered to help me. If I wanted it." His voice was thick with emotion. "She saved me in every way that one can be saved." The three were quiet.

"I'm sorry," Valen apologized after a while. "I didn't mean to launch into my life story... we should get going."

"Indeed," Umbra said. The group started on again, cloaked in ponderous silence. There was much to think about.

* * *

The tunnel widened farther ahead. The stalagmites and stalactites grew in number, shooting sharply out of the ground at irregular, hazardous angles, which Deekin's backpack repeatedly snagged on, forcing the kobold to make numerous stops to free himself and causing him to lag toward the back. This meant Umbra and Valen were again together at the head, which fouled Deekin's mood to no end. Gritting his teeth and grumbling to himself while keeping an eye out for more jagged points, the kobold was truthfully more sad than angry. Toward the beginning of this adventure, his suspicions of a romance developing between the two could easily have been dismissed as just that. But now, after that last conversation... 

_CLANG, CLANG, CLANG._ The gently flapping noise of metal on metal reverberated down the tunnel's length, echoing against the hard walls and becoming much louder than it actually was. Valen and Umbra drew their weapons in an instant, Deekin shortly after. The three were silent as the noise made its way up the tunnel, growing louder as it came closer. The three continued to walk ahead, more quickly than before, anxious to meet up with their foe before it met up with them. With her keen dark vision, Umbra saw the approacher before her companions did, and moved to attack it. The approacher saw this, and was quick to counterattack before Umbra's own attack could hit home. What appeared to be a floating ball of metal flew out of the tunnel's depths, slamming into Umbra and crushing her against the wall. Despite the force of the blow, Umbra was unaffected, and speedily cast a fire spell, which pushed her metallic assailant backward. It dropped to the ground soon after, completely still, and the aroma of burnt meat permeated the air - Deekin felt his stomach rumbling pleadingly as he smelled it.

Upon closer inspection, the mysterious attacker proved to be a regular beholder, if slightly larger than normal. It was covered in a suit of metal armor specially designed to accustom its strange, spherical body, with holes in the top for its eye-stalks to fit through and a screen set over its central eye to protect it. It was a juggernaut, a beholder trained for physical combat, its armor meant to protect it. Ironically, without the armor it might have survived (for a little longer, that is); the fire spell Umbra had cast was a brief one, and would have mildly burned a bare beholder before dissipating. However, the armor the juggernaut wore had been heated by the fire, and cooked the beholder in its own shell before finally cooling. That would have been the end of it... but juggernauts tend to travel in groups. The ensuing battle was more difficult than those with normal beholders; fortunately, Umbra's spells were doubly effective at the close range the juggernauts preferred, Valen was no stranger to fighting well-armored opponents, and Deekin was there in the background to help out. When the group of juggernauts was at last defeated, Valen sat down to rest, Deekin healed wounds and an unwounded Umbra kept watch, as usual.

"Except for eyetouched, that be hardest battle yet," Deekin commenting, making a note in his book.

"The eyetouched were only harder because we're not used to fighting them," Valen decided, getting to his feet and grabbing his flail, tail waving confidently. "If the battles are getting harder, it must mean we're getting closer to the Eye Tyrant."

"That sounds right," Umbra agreed.

"It woulds," Deekin muttered bitterly.

"What did you say, Deekin?" Umbra asked.

"Nothing!" the kobold beamed innocently, though shooting Valen a dirty look when neither was looking. The tunnel twisted onward, the three following it for what seemed ages - it was doubtlessly quicker to traverse if one floated rather than walked - with several smaller battles interspersed during this walk. By and by, the tunnel began branching off at irregular angles, and out of one of the tunnels burst another group of juggernauts, as well as some spellcasting beholders who had gouged out their own central eyes to achieve better focus with their eye-stalks. This battle was predictably long and grueling, but the triad won out in the end.

"They came out of this tunnel," Umbra noted, gazing down it. "Mayhap it would lead us to the Eye Tyrant, and we should enter it?"

"It could lead to a trap," Valen said suspiciously.

"It could," Umbra acknowledged, going ahead anyway. "As could the path we have been taking."

"Boss gots good point," Deekin shrugged, following her - though admittedly more to sour Valen's mood than because he agreed with her reasoning. Sadly, Valen's mood wasn't soured in the least, and he followed as well. This tunnel was surprisingly short, but stopped at a dead end. Or so it seemed - Deekin discovered otherwise when he stepped forward to see if the "dead end" was a secret door which opened when tapped, and narrowly avoiding falling into empty space. The floor dropped off here, giving way to a significant hole. Gazing down it, the three discovered a wide, round room below them. Arranged in a circle around it was a variety of beholder-kin - normal beholders, juggernauts, monitors, spellcasters, several kinds Deekin didn't recognize, and the eyetouched. At the center of the room was an enormous beholder the color of rot, with a face like a one-eyed carp, who could be none other than Eye Tyrant herself. The beholder-kin made loud, grumbling sounds (the eyetouched pronouncing them staggeringly) to each other, eyes lolling around the room. They were obviously conversing, in some sense.

"What you thinks they be talking about?" Deekin whispered. Beholders have never been renowned for their acute hearing, so he was not heard; however, it wasn't long before one of the many-eyed's eye-stalks noticed the spies above. The grumbling rose into roars (though eyetouched or no, the drow aren't very good at roaring like beholders), and it didn't take the trio long to realize they'd been spotted. Valen bundled his flail and leapt down the hole.

"INTO THE FLAMES WE LEAP!" he barked, landing squarely on a beholder and efficiently squishing it before it could blast him. Deekin glanced at Umbra briefly.

"He likes sayings that, doesn't he?" he remarked.

"So it would seem," Umbra replied, bounding after. The kobold eyed the distance to the ground warily, but jumped anyway, and managed to survive by doing as Valen and landing on a beholder. This action gave him a great place to start in with his unique beholder-fighting methods, as he cropped off the eye-stalks of the beholder he'd landed on and moved on to the next, narrowly avoiding several eye shots. Umbra was already slicing and dicing beholders left and right, Valen mashing others into bloody pulp. That is not to say the beholder-kin simply floated there and took the abuse, not at all; more than once Valen found himself suffering from unsavory spell effects, and even from his vantage point Deekin was caught by numerous searing lasers, though never lethally, and the heat of the lasers always cauterized the wounds before they could bleed him dry. The Eye Tyrant shot off occasional blasts, but knew better than to draw attention to herself more than necessary (she was, after all, the biggest target in the room, no matter how sturdy), biding her time until the intruders had been significantly weakened. Caught unprepared, the beholder-kin's numbers were gradually reduced, making the battle increasingly feasible for the invading three. Realizing the intruders might fell too many of her soldiers before they ran out of energy, the Eye Tyrant made a change of plans and chose now to attack.

After being struck by no less than fourteen different spells (no match for those cast by devils, but still trying and painful), Valen had been very mindful of the spellcasters. Heaving a deceased juggernaut off the floor, Valen brandished it as a makeshift shield, and it worked well; those spells that the juggernaut's metal armor failed to deflect were absorbed by its spongy corpse, giving Valen a chance to smash the spellcaster in with his flail while it recharged. When the dead juggernaut began to resemble a chunk of Swiss cheese more than a carcass, Valen dropped it and grabbed a new one. He'd barely tested it when it was disintegrated by a shaft of energy fired by the Eye Tyrant herself. Eyes wide, Valen quickly realized that standing there stupidly wasn't such a great idea and ducked to the side as a second immense blast followed. He took up another juggernaut corpse, but this one was zapped to ashes as well. Fortunately, Valen discovered that live juggernauts worked just as well as dead ones. Said juggernauts were rather indignant about being snatched by a widely grinning tiefling, but were vaporized by their unknowing leader before they could object. When a juggernaut wasn't available, other beholders and even eyetouched drow were acceptable substitutes. This proved an amazingly efficient method of mass-murdering his opponents, Valen mused. Bent on killing the tiefling, it took the Eye Tyrant a surprising while to realize she was instead killing off her own numbers - and she was furious when she did. However, fury and precision do not mix. Valen had no trouble evading, and even more beholders were slain in the crossfire.

Valen wasn't the only one dealing with the Eye Tyrant. Deekin was having an increasingly difficult time staying surmounted when his footholds kept getting incinerated (and he came too close to getting incinerated for comfort, himself), but based on the general area Valen lingered in, he managed to pick out which beholders were likely to get shot and move to the ones that weren't. With the fighters mainly preoccupied with other beholder-kin, Deekin knew that shearing eye-stalks wouldn't cut it and began cleaving skulls. A messy process, but an effective one.

Umbra, meanwhile, looked away from hewing beholders in time to narrowly avoid a dire shot from the Eye Tyrant. Fully aware what the true threat here was, Umbra happened to notice Deekin's tactics in dealing with the aberrations. Then, surveying the Tyrant's formidable size, the cowled one started forward, dark magics licking at her fingers. Seeing that the intruder was approaching her directly, the Tyrant grinned nastily, eyes glowing.

"Deekin, Valen," Umbra called out. "You may wish to seek cover." So saying, she unleashed the spell. Instantly, shadows sprang up from every corner of the room, lifting from the smallest cracks and the slightest shade. The freed shadows expanded, filling every available amount of space, permeating the very air. All was pitch black; though the darkness was harmless, it was impossible to see through. Deekin and Valen heeded Umbra's advice and, finding no shelter, ducked down, though they didn't know why. The beholders and eyetouched hovered and stumbled around in blindly; sight was their primary sense, and they were majorly disabled without it. The only one in the room who could see, Umbra took advantage of this, scaling the Eye Tyrant and landing atop the abominable aberration's skull.

"Come forth, those of many eyes!" Umbra shouted. Surface Common was a language foreign to these cave-dwellers, but they recognized it was a foe speaking, and moved toward the sound as Umbra went on, "You may strike this one, if such is your wish! This one stands still here for your convenience!"

"What is she doing?" Valen muttered, pressing himself against the floor. Deekin, flat against a wall and wondering much the same thing, wished it wasn't so dark so he could write this down. Umbra continued to taunt the beholder-kin; growing increasingly agitated, the eye-casters surrounded the source of her voice. Their eyes shimmered as they prepared to attack, though the stifling darkness cloaked these warning signs. The Eye Tyrant was entirely unaware of what was about to happen. Raising a shield of shadow around herself, Umbra had a pretty good idea.

The beholder-kin fired. Countless spells and lasers bombarded the unfortunate Eye Tyrant, who howled in pain and sank to the ground. Lowering the shield, Umbra let out tens of fireballs, each slamming into an eye-kin. When the shadows dissipated, many beholders lay dead or dying, including the Eye Tyrant herself. Umbra leapt down and proceeded finishing off the remaining numbers, while Valen and Deekin got back up and helped her with this, congratulating her on her brilliance.

Beholder fluids and drow blood slicked the floor, while unmoving corpses littered it. The largest body sat at the floor's center, oozing gelatinous insides out various wounds. Unnoticed, its central eye flicked open. Darting about, the pupil settled on the hooded figure who had done this, iris widening, vision sharpening and gaze focusing. An aura of cold and darkness surrounded the cowled one, unseen by her companions, but seen and comprehended by the Tyrant. Lips curling back in a silent snarl, the Eye Tyrant lowered her eye-stalks, moving them together and training them on Umbra. She fired, all the shots (any one huge by itself) combining into one colossal laser of blinding white light. This effort sapped the last of the Tyrant's energy. All eyes closed one final time, the Eye Tyrant soothed only by the thought that she had exacted vengeance on one of her hive's slayers in her dying moments.

The laser hit Umbra head-on, flinging her across the room, where she slammed into the far wall, slid to the floor and did not move. Most of the beholders left seized this opportunity, clustering above the fallen figure and charging their eye rays. By the time Umbra's companions noticed, the aberrations were about ready to fire.

"Boss!" Deekin squeaked, looking up from the beholder he had just felled. Yanking his rapier out of its eye with a spurt of liquid, he bolted toward Umbra. But it didn't look like he would arrive in time, the beholders grinning to themselves as they fired.

At the instant, Valen leapt in, scooped Umbra into his arms, and got out of the way just before the lasers hit the ground where she had been. A spell cast by Deekin drenched the beholders with acid, burning out their eyes and racking their minds with pain before they could reflect on their miss. Valen knelt down, Umbra still in his arms.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly. She did not respond. "Umbra?" A short distance away, Deekin was dispatching the mutilated beholders, while keeping a wary eye on Valen and the Boss. Umbra was completely helpless in the tiefling's arms... With a barely restrained growl, Deekin gripped his rapier and slashed a beholder in twain.

Umbra spoke at last, her voice faded and hollow. _"The shadows,"_ she said.

"What?" Valen asked, blue eyes a little wider.

_"The shadows,"_ Umbra repeated._ "Let this one into the shadows... that she might heal."_ Valen noticed a long shadow cast by a stalagmite nearby.

"Of course," he nodded, moving into the stalagmite's shadow, "but I fail to see how this will help." Umbra did not respond, continuously still. Fearing he had lost her, Valen studied her carefully. Her face, always so stolid... not even a twitch. No sweat glistened on that night black skin; those vague nostrils did not flare to breathe, nor did her lips purse to gasp. Her hand, long and spidery, splayed by her side. Valen found himself holding it, noticing how cool it was. He felt no pulse, but somehow, he doubted she was dead. The voice she spoke in, so detached and faint, that he had heard her use only once before... something about it was familiar. He studied the cowled one carefully.

"What are you hiding?" he whispered.

"What you be doing to Boss?" Deekin snapped. At that moment, Valen realized how close his face was to Umbra's. He jerked away, head spinning to face the kobold.

"Nothing," he responded sharply. Deekin eyed Valen with clear mistrust. Naturally rebellious, Valen returned the stare. And then Umbra moved.

"Boss!" Deekin cried again, rushing to her side. "Is you alright?"

"This one has recovered," she avered, moving to get up. There was an awkward pause, as it occured to Valen he was still holding her in his lap. He quickly removed his arms and allowed her to stand. Deekin shot him a glare, then smiled back up at Umbra.

"Deekin so glad you be okay, Boss!" he cheered. "Deekin be so worried..."

"You need not be," Umbra assured him. "Now, let us be on our way."

"You're certain you don't need to rest?" Valen asked, climbing to his feet.

"This one is certain," she avered, going ahead. "The beholders' cave is a maze. We had best start now if we wish to leave it."

"True," Valen nodded, and the trio began moving again.

Deekin sometimes found it difficult to stop talking when nervous, and such was the case now - he could recall few occasions he'd been more nervous. He was chattering on incessantly, jumping from topic to topic so rapidly even he couldn't keep track of what he was talking about, Umbra offering polite interjections here and there. Though indefinitely thrilled that Umbra was alright, he couldn't help but feel queasy at the way Valen had been holding her just moments ago. It had looked exactly like so many romantic illustrations of a valiant knight carrying a fair lady Deekin had once admired in books, but shuddered to draw the comparison now. Valen and Umbra couldn't be in love... they couldn't.

It would be much later that Deekin remembered to add the battle with the beholders to the Boss's epic tale. When he did, he conveniently forgot the ending.

* * *

(I hope that chapter was worth the waiting period for you. And, by the way, all creatures in this chapter are valid Dungeons and Dragons monsters. Though they weren't in the game, I added them to my fic to make it more exciting.) 


	14. Mind Your Manners

(A/N: You'll find a reference to the song mentioned in this chapter in Chapter Ten of Dependence I: Heartsinger, after Daschnaya tells Deekin's fortune. To celestine01: Exactly. To everyone else who guessed: You're doing great! Don't forget about Umbra's robe. To snackfiend101: Yes, there is a story behind that. A horribly, HORRIBLY cheesy story, which sends chills of laughter up Deekin's spine to recall. To Witchwolf: Thanks for the awesome, really long review!  
This is the longest chapter so far, also marking the sequel as longer than the first part... and there's still more to go, though the story is at last nearing an ending. I thank all my reviewers, and hope you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: And thus, a disclaimer was spawned, disclaiming any and all ownership of Neverwinter Nights.)

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

It took long enough, but after some rest the three made it out of the beholder caves and back into the open Underdark at last. The past few hours had been quite uneventful, Deekin's nervous chatter having died down shortly after they left the caves. Putting the finishing touches on the newest addition to his tale and correcting a few misspellings, the reptilian breathed out, closed his notebook over the self-inking quill, and looked ahead. As always, Valen and Umbra strode ahead of him. In recent days he had grown used to it, but after today's (tonight's?) earlier events, Valen's close proximity to Umbra was making him more and more uncomfortable. Deekin tried to put it out of his mind, examining his surroundings and noticing that mushrooms down here could grow as big as humans, luminous blue and plain gray alike. Still, it didn't take long for his gaze to return to Umbra. He wanted desperately to speak with her, but with Valen's proper speech to compare to, Deekin was increasingly ashamed of how fragmented his own spoken Common was. A quiet while later, he reopened his notebook, took out the quill and flipped to the final pages, which could be scribbled on and torn out and they wouldn't be missed. Closing his eyes, it didn't take him long to recall the lyrics he wanted, and he began writing.

The second song he had ever written (the first was "Oh! How Smelly the Dragon's Den Be!" and had not gone over well with Tymofarrar) was composed three years ago, during his caravan trip across the Anauroch. He had written dozens of songs since then, though few had met with public approval when they were sung by a kobold. Of them all his favorite song was always the one for Umbra; and yet, he had never finished it, not even titled it. During the years Umbra was gone he'd worked on it a number of times, but never found the right words for it. Now that their adventures had resumed, there was barely enough opportunity to write the epic tale, let alone the song. But - Deekin looked around to make sure - there was no danger to contend with for the time being, and he'd finished writing all the exciting bits of the epic. Surely, now he could work on the song.

After rewriting the first lines from memory, Deekin paused and tried to think of what to write next. He couldn't.

"Fine time for Deekin to gets writer's block," the kobold grumbled, tapping his skull with the quill's plume ponderously. It was so easy to get stuck when he was drawing from his own imagination, because he always knew he could better his own mind's products. Not so with reality - what happened, happened. And that was that. Finding that the more he dwelt on the song the harder it was to think up the next lyrics, Deekin took a break before he'd even begun and looked around. No signs of enemies; just rocks and mushrooms. Mushrooms sure did get big down here, he thought again, turning back to the pages hopefully. No luck... writer's block persisted.

A movement sighted out the corner of his eye prompted him to look up. His eyes swept the area carefully, settling on a five-foot-tall mushroom shortly behind them. Had that been there before? Deekin shook his his head and got back to brainstorming; his mind was obviously concocting excuses not to write. His heart sank slightly. Even if he did finish the song, what would he do? It was dedicated to Umbra, but did he suppose he would ever work up the courage to sing it to her? Was he really entertaining fantasies of serenading the hero, like so many romantic bards of yore? Deekin growled lowly at his own self-doubts and tapped the quill against his temple again. He stopped short and twisted his neck around. He was _sure_ he'd seen something move that time...

Deekin hovered the quill just above the paper, carefully not to bump ink into the page as he walked and keeping a wary eye about him. A-HA! He knew he'd seen something now! The kobold spun around in an instant. He saw a stone settling as though something had disturbed it - only, it wasn't a little chunk of rock. It was more of a boulder. There was definitely something going on here. Deekin turned back ahead and alternated between gazing at his notebook and glancing behind him. Up ahead, Valen and Umbra were unaware of this; Deekin picked up on a mild conversation between them. But each time he looked behind him there was something else amiss - some pebbles scattered, a mushroom several feet away from where it had been, a heavy rock toppled over (and then righted again next time he looked). Not to mention, there was the peculiar phenomenon of some of the scenery _following_ them, as opposed to shrinking in the distance. Even when he wasn't looking, he could hear the sounds of things being shuffled and moved around. Deekin dismissed these occurences as figments of his imagination as long as he could, but he could deny it no longer. It was getting ridiculous - when he looked around this time, five giant mushrooms and three boulders were arranged in a semicircle, which they most certainly had _not_ been earlier. When he looked away, there was the loud clunking sound of something heavy moving. He looked back - sure enough, the mushrooms and rocks were as close to him as they had been before, despite the fact the trio had been moving away from them. In fact, Deekin could have sworn they'd moved even closer. Deekin's gaze switched to Valen soberly.

"Mean goat man!" Deekin called, closing his book and tucking it in the top of his pack.

"What is it?" Valen answered, accustomed to but far from thrilled with his new nickname.

"Deekin not supposes mushrooms and rocks moves around in Underdark, does they?"

"No, but some creatures closely resemble them. Why?" Valen looked back at the kobold curiously.

"Ah," Deekin replied with a sage nod. "That explains lots." At that moment, the rocks and mushrooms attacked. Of course, at this point they had sprouted stubby limbs and spiteful faces.

"First jelly cubes," Deekin muttered, starting a spell while shaking his head disapprovingly. "Now this. Underdark be strange, strange place, Deekin thinking." Deekin completed the spell, sending magic missiles slamming into his foes and smashing them into rocky rubble and fungal pulp, respectively. A ridiculously easy encounter, but a strange one nonetheless. The triad resumed their journey.

"What be those things, anyways?" Deekin found himself asking Valen.

"The rocks were bi-nou, the mushrooms were myconids," the tiefling responded. "Myconids aren't usually malicious, but there are exceptions to everything. You're living proof of that, kobold."

"Deekin not sure whether he should takes that as compliment or not," the kobold noted. Valen must not have heard him; either that, or he chose not to respond this time. Deekin took his notebook back out and opened it again, turning to where he'd left off writing the tale. He wouldn't be finishing the song just yet, but at least he could add a bit more to the epic tale. And what an interesting bit it was.

The trio continued on for a while after the bizarre encounter. Valen brought out the map from his belt satchel and checked it periodically, comparing stalactites and stalagmites to the dots imprinted on the sheet. Valen and Umbra showed no signs of slowing down, and though Deekin was finding himself short of breath and longing for rest, he wasn't about to concede weakness, and kept on anyway. Time passed, and Valen's naturally taut stance relaxed slightly, suggesting they were nearing their goal.

"We'll be there soon," he said, verifying this. "When we get there, we'll need to be cautious. Not overly cautious, though - Zorvak'Mur is more of a trading post than an actual settlement. The illithid there are quite reasonable, and do business with other races regularly, so we shouldn't have to worry about the usual mind flayer reactio - "

"MIND FLAYER!" Deekin shrieked, stumbling over a rock. "We be goings to sees MIND FLAYERS?"

"Of course," Valen said, somewhat puzzled. "Didn't I mention that?"

"Not quite," Umbra informed.

"Oh. Sorry about that," Valen apologized, looking ahead. "But like I said, we don't have much to worry about. We just have to be careful not think bad thoughts."

"They reads minds?" Deekin asked, growing increasingly worried. To be honest, the few tales he'd read about mind flayers, aka illithid, hadn't usually extended beyond the hero slashing off their octopus-like heads and squishing them down on pikes.

"Anyway," Valen continued, making up his mind to ignore Deekin as best he could, "the illithid are highly intelligent race. Highly cruel... but highly intelligent. If we can convince them to let us see the Elder Brain - "

"Elder Brain?" Deekin said. "What be that?"

"Their leader," Valen answered quickly, breaking his own vow.

"What it looks like?" Deekin wondered, opening his notebook.

"A giant brain, I would imagine," the tiefling said, deciding it would be easier on his sanity if he didn't fight the kobold's interrogation. "When a wise mind flayer dies, the other mind flayers add its brain to the Elder... or, so I've been told."

Deekin was mostly quiet as he wrote this down, but remarked, "That be disgusting."

"I know," Valen said. "But as I was _saying_, we might be able to convince the Elder Brain to convince the Elder Concord - "

"What be Elder Concord?"

"TheElderConcordisthebiggroupofElderBrainsareyougoingtoaskmequestionsthewholetime?" Valen spat out through gritted teeth.

"...maybe. Whatever be best for story. Ooh, Deekin writes that down!" said Deekin, writing that down.

Valen's tail switched, but he went on. "Our goal is to convince the Elder Brain of Zorvak'Mur to convince the Elder Concord to disband with the Valsharess and side with the rebels."

"But even if we manage that, how do we know the Elder Brain will keep its word?" Umbra asked.

"We don't," Valen said grimly. "We can only hope." He sighed. "Admittedly, our chances of succeeding are slim, but we might as well try."

"While that is true," Umbra noted, "would it not be advised to go somewhere such outright danger is not present, at least until we have better means of dealing with said danger?"

Valen lifted an eyebrow, facing Umbra again. "Why the trepidation?"

"It seems a foolish thing to march into a place where your mind could so easily be stripped of you," Umbra stated. "This one has no fears, but thinks it an unwise move. Tell this one... do you often take such risks?"

Valen shrugged. "The mind flayers have to be dealt with, if not now, another time. It might as well be now." The tiefling felt Umbra's unseen gaze lingering on him studiously.

"You care a great lot for this Seer, do you not, Valen?" she said at last. "You would give your life, your mind in an instant for her sake." Valen's sudden muteness indicated this was true. Umbra's next words were edged with meaning. "As such, you will understand this one has her own loyalties. This one will aid your cause, but not if it means sacrificing her own."

_"...but not if it means sacrificing her own." _ What was Umbra's cause? Deekin wondered, posing this question in the epic tale. A tense silence hung in the air.

"I understand," Valen said coolly. "If you grow afraid at any time in Zorvak'Mur, you and your 'cause' may flee."

"So we shall," Umbra answered, none of the tiefling's hostility returned in her neutral tone; only firm conviction. Nothing more was said. Deekin barely dared to breathe, so strong was the quiet. Perhaps this newfound tension between the two meant a break in the romance... or, if they settled their differences, the romance could be strengthened. Deekin didn't seem to realize how fickle his concerns were, and as no one else was able to hear them, no one could tell him. And even if they had, perhaps he wouldn't have cared... throughout their adventures, the cowled one had completely captured his heart. Nothing related to Umbra could be fickle in Deekin's mind.

* * *

The illithid of Zorvak'Mur could not be accused of modesty. Zorvak'Mur itself was an humongous construct, putting any single building in Waterdeep to shame - though as a city, to which it was more akin, it was quite small. Constructed of black rock so it erupted seamlessly from the ground, the building rose high up into the... well, nothing in the Underdark could rightly be called a sky. The top ended off in a glasslike green globe, while the building's length was ringed with hundreds of tiny red windows. At its base were four immense statues of illithid heads placed regularly around the building, one for each direction. In turn, each statue bore four long tentacles, twisting and curling so realistically it was difficult to believe they were crafted of stone. Red eyes glimmered in the statues' heads, made of the same substance as the windows. Deekin was uneasy as they approached the structure. He could swear something watched him through the statues' glassy eyes... and perhaps it did. 

In each illithid head, past a mass of stone tentacles, was a door. The door was a sharp beak, modeled after the one every mind flayer carries beneath its tentacles, and at the moment, closed shut. As the trio approached, some unknown signaled to it, and the beak slid open to allow the three entrance. Valen was first to enter, casting a look over his shoulder to see if Umbra would follow. She did. The beak began to close up, making Deekin hurry, though Umbra was quick to help him through.

"Thanks, Boss," Deekin muttered.

"Think nothing of it," Umbra replied kindly, following after Valen. Deekin started after, but paused. Was that... _sadness_ he'd heard in Umbra's voice? What would she be sad about? Valen, most likely. The kobold glowered and trudged after.

If Zorvak'Mur's outside was fantastic, the inside was a hundred times so. Every wall, every high ceiling, every square inch of floor was made of common Underdark rock, but carved so intricately its beauty surpassed the most elaborate surface mansion. Even Undrentide could not have matched it - the walls were slit and ridged in such a way that the shadows cast on them refracted and merged specifically, giving the illusion that the walls went on forever, the effect broken only by occasional fragile stone designs that brought to mind butterflies, or snowflakes. Deekin could have stared forever, but Zorvak'Mur had other eye-candies to offer. The floor was riddled with stone carvings of various scenes mostly concerning illithid, so artistic they appeared beautiful even to surfacers, the carved mind flayers' long tentacles curling and winding splendidly; even the carvings of illithid extracting the brains of other races carried a quality of grace and awe about them. But there were other scenes, as well - drow slaying each other on battlefields, made so realistic Deekin could hear the silent screams; beholders, dancing in unknown rituals and shooting dazzling lasers from their eyes (the lasers were filled in with quartz or some other shiny mineral, so they actually sparkled); as well as numerous other subterranean races Deekin couldn't begin to name, but admired nonetheless. No pattern was repeated, and each blended seamlessly into the next, so that if Deekin tried to separate the floor scenes he grew dizzy. The kobold looked up; the stone ceiling was gently aglow with a faintly luminous but breathtakingly beautiful substance, arranged in pulsating patterns of jellyfish-like light. From the ceiling's center spouted a beam of soft violet light, letting down to the floor and probably marking a teleportation spell that led up into higher floors. An unknown source emanated strange music, a hauntingly beautiful sound that cut into Deekin's heart and made him afraid, but no less awestruck. For the first time in his life, he realized that fear could be beautiful. Getting out his notebook, he attempted to write a music sheet of this wondrous, emotionally striking song, but it was too complex. The kobold soon gave up and enjoyed the music anyway, frightening as it was.

Zorvak'Mur's decorations were so visually stunning that Deekin almost forgot about the inhabitants. All around the immense room, tentacle-faced mind flayers went about business. This was a marketplace, the kobold realized; a bizarre bazaar. Some illithid sold things as common as traveling clothes, others marketing things so exotic Deekin couldn't begin to think what they might be. He could hear their marketing gimmicks echoing in his head, jumbled together senselessly but clear in their intentions, and giving him something of a headache. In addition to the mind flayers were the four-legged monstrosities known as intellect devourers; mindless humanoid slaves lugged heavy loads for their masters' convenience; and, standing a little too close to some illithid for comfort, were hulking green lizardmen. A bit like large kobolds, Deekin thought, but much uglier. To his surprise (and disturbance), Deekin also noticed some odd creatures that resembled lizardmen, but for their tentacle-ringed faces. He hoped they weren't what he thought they were.

A good twelve yards away, several dozen seated figures raised hands alternately. Standing before them was an important-looking blue illithid in green robes, a human woman at his side, her skin sickly pale from lack of sunlight. She wore brown rags and a sloppy half-smile, drooling copious amounts. In a cage behind her, various hominids suffered from the same affliction, only a few still with their wits about them, who were clawing and screaming to get out if they hadn't given up already. It was a slave auction. A purple illithid with red tentacles won the bid and led the woman away on a leash. Still drooling, the woman dropped to all fours and scuffled along obediently. Deekin would have dismissed this cruelty as a staple of illithid culture, but he saw plenty of non-illithids here, surfacers and Underdark denizens alike, vouching for slaves right along with the tentacle-heads. In the distance, Deekin could hear the cheers and pained shouts of a gladiatorial pit. He sighed, shook his head and looked to see Valen's reaction (no use checking for Umbra's, emotionless as ever). The hard lines etched into the tiefling's face showed he was disgusted by this, no matter how fascinated by the architecture.

Deekin had approximately thirty seconds to take this all in, for in this colony of mind-readers, a herald could not have done a better job of announcing the trio's arrival. By that time, every mind flayer in the colony knew exactly who they were, why they had come, and what color their underwear was. Not a pleasant detail for any illithid, but such was the price of mind-reading. After a short bout of linked thinking, the mind flayers decided upon one to represent them. A red-violet illithid in silky golden attire made its way over to the triad promptly, tentacles curling as it felt their thoughts. Its voice rang through Deekin's skull impatiently:

"Scouts from the rebel camp in Lith My'athar. You've come to bargain with us about our agreement with the Valsharess... well, let's get it over with."

"We'll speak with the Elder Brain," Valen said curtly. The red-violet mind flayer's eyes were blank white orbs, but they glistened in such a way that Deekin realized the illithid was rolling its eyes.

"Another of the thrall race thinking it can speak with the Elder? I would explain your incredible inferiority, but I haven't got all day. Simply put, no. You may not see the Elder. Speak with me, and I will relay your message."

"**No need. I will see them.**" This new voice appeared out of nowhere. It boomed in Deekin's head; he could feel his teeth chatter and a headache swell at the extreme mental force. Clearly, this was the Elder Brain speaking. The red-violet illithid's eyes widened in surprise, but there was no questioning the Elder Brain. Its eyes drooped concedingly.

"There is a portal at the center of this floor," it informed the three, pointing to the violet light shaft poking through the ceiling, which Deekin had noticed earlier. "Step in and you will be taken to the Elder Brain." It looked at Umbra meaningfully. "Except you... you should stay." Umbra seemed oblivious to the mind flayer's remark.

"We go together," Valen replied steadfastly.

The illithid shrugged its lavishly garbed but frail shoulders, though keeping an uneasy eye on the cowled one. "No harm in it, I suppose. Go on." It turned back and strode away through the crowd. That was strange, Deekin thought. What Umbra said next as they started toward the portal was stranger yet.

"Why do the illithid persist being mute?" she questioned. "Is it out of disdain for other races?"

"Mute?" Valen repeated, perplexed. "That illithid just spoke to us! And didn't you hear the Elder Brain?"

"This one heard no Elder Brain," Umbra puzzled.

"Deekin hears Elder Brain," the kobold chimed in. "Big, loud voice in Deekin's brain! It gives Deekin headache... ouch."

"In your..." Umbra trailed off, confusion giving way to realization. "Of course! That is, of course, this one... heard the Elder Brain. And the illithid."

"You just said you didn't," Valen answered, looking at Umbra suspiciously.

"It was a joke," Umbra dismissed. "Now, we should be getting to where we are going..."

"The Elder Brain?" Deekin suggested.

"Yes, there," Umbra said uneasily. "Valen, lead the way." The tiefling nodded, his eyes still trained on the hooded one mistrustfully. Though far from mistrustful, Deekin did watch his hero with a look of curiosity. Even the kobold had picked up a lie in the Boss's voice, and the nervous looks illithid kept shooting Umbra were making _Deekin_ nervous. Something was amiss, here.

Per the illithid's advice, the three arranged themselves in the shaft of light (Umbra moved in once the others were in place). Blinding violet brightness swept over their vision, clearing again to reveal another room. A green dome covered the place, eliminating need for walls or ceiling, glimmering of its own fulgence and bathing the room in a verdant light; this was the top floor. This room was much smaller than the previous, though still vast, and looking all the vaster for being empty.

Well, almost empty. We mustn't discount our heroes... or the large tub which took up the center of the room. Said tub was stylishly lopsided, made of black marble patterned with waves of royal blue and embedded with ornately arranged rows of glistening diamonds, any one diamond so small it could have fit on the tip of one of Valen's fangs with room to spare. Gorgeous as the tub was, its contents were not. A purplish-pink, crinkled mass that could only be formed of countless brains slopped around in the tub, slimy tentacles squirming out of its being and over the tub's sides. The oversized brain basked in a pool of its own juices. If Deekin dared step close enough, he could see small, dark forms wriggling through the opaque liquid; illithid tadpoles. This thing, the Elder Brain, convulsed; Deekin had the unsettling feeling of every crease, every membrane of his brain being probed by this thing's consciousness. Pleased with its discoveries, the Elder Brain spoke, its psychical voice erupting in Deekin's mind.

**"You have been given the privilege of beholding me. A rare privilege for a thrall, indeed."** Deekin didn't think it much of a privilege. Valen tensed.

"We're not thralls," he said curtly. "We've come - "

**"To speak of the Valsharess, to negotiate with me, in hopes I will dissuade all the Elder Concord and the illithid under us from our choice,"** the Elder Brain summarized. **"Don't look so surprised. No secrets can be kept from me here."** Deekin could sense unease as many of the Elder Brain's thoughts focused on Umbra. **"Except for that one. Have it remove its robe, or whatever shields its mind from me."**

"Deekin not think it very polite to ask lady to takes off her robe," Deekin noted, chilled despite his seemingly nonchalant attitude. The Elder Brain couldn't read Umbra's mind? How could that be?

"Answer our questions," Valen maintained stubbornly. The Elder's mental equivalent of sigh permeated Deekin's thoughts.

**"Which questions? The ones you haven't asked? Not much point... I already know every reason you've come, every possible question you could ask of me, and every possible answer I could give you. The Valsharess commands a sea of soldiers, and an archduke of the hells. Your puny rebel camp only exists because she has no reason to rush her tyranny. I know your thoughts, thus I know you can offer my kind nothing against her. You cannot convince us to follow you. The Concord will not jeopardize our people."**

"But - " Valen tried.

**"Definitely not,"** the Brain responded easily.

"What if - "

**"Not a chance."**

Valen stared at the Elder Brain, long and steady. His breathing became rapid, eyes flickering. He _couldn't_ fail the Seer... he _wouldn't._

Deekin watched with horrified fascination as the angered tiefling's eyes welled with red, lips pulling back and fangs parting as a slow growl rumbled in his throat. His grip on his flail tightened, tail swung erratically. Though he would have overcome it, in that instant, Valen's demonic nature surfaced. The inconceivable hatred that only a fiend can know flooded his thoughts... and it was directed toward the Elder.

With mere words, I cannot begin to describe the malevolent forces which drive demons to do what they do. A demon is the epitome of evil and chaos, desiring nothing more than to cause the suffering of others without focus or control. A mere glimpse of such a dark, confusing mind would drive most mortals to madness. To _feel_ a demon's undying loathing directed toward them and them alone, as the mind-reading Elder Brain did, would cause their hearts to shrivel to ashes in their chests. A being as powerful and literally heartless as the Elder Brain was able to resist such a horrible fate, but the Elder was mortal nonetheless, and overwhelmingly terrified. Summoning its psionic defenses, it retaliated in the best way it could.

Exruciating pain exploded in Deekin's mind. The kobold gave a small cry, was vaguely aware of falling, and blacked out.

He didn't know how long he lay there. Soon enough, though, he awakened by a perfumed breeze tickling his nose. He lay there a moment longer, before his eyes blinked open in realization. "They not gots breezes in Underdark," Deekin murmured, sitting up and rubbing the back of his still slightly sore head. He looked up. "Or blue skies... or fluffy clouds... or sun that hurts Deekin's eyes if he stares too long... ouch. Yep, that be sun alright." Deekin stood up and gazed at his surroundings. "Wow."

In all directions splayed miles and miles of lush, grassy green terrain. Countless hundreds of brightly colored flower heads bobbed slightly in the breeze. The rippling effect was entrancing, especially to one who had spent so long in the Underdark. Deekin breathed in the sweet scent of fresh blooms deeply. He'd seen this field of flowers before, when Umbra was still trapped on the Shadow Plane. He'd thought it was the second most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and would have been complete if only Umbra was there. He felt the same way now.

"Deekin?" a familiar voice said. Deekin spun around, heart leaping; sure enough, there stood Umbra behind him.

"Boss!" he cried gleefully, running over flowers to her.

"Thank the gods you have awoken," Umbra said, kneeling down so their faces were level and stroking his head. "You were having a terrible dream. This one was so worried for you."

"You not needs to worries, Boss," Deekin assured her, holding her hand. "Deekin be just great, now that you be here." He gazed at her face fondly. The Underdark, the drow, the beholders, the mind flayers, that tiefling... it had all been a dream. Just a horrible dream, as Umbra had said. Umbra's hand closed around Deekin's own. Standing up, she tugged gently at his arm.

"Come, m'love," she beseeched him. "Come with this one and forsake those horrible dreams. Come with this one, and we shall be happy forever."

"Forever, Boss?" He admired that half-hidden black face, dark even in this illuminating light. To always be with Umbra, just Umbra... oh, how he would love that!

"Forever," she replied. And then she smiled. Deekin, in turn, frowned deeply, his hand slipping out of hers as he backed away cautiously.

"You not be Boss," he realized. "Boss never smiles. Not even when she be happy."

The imposter laughed. "Of course this one is Umbra. Come now, Deekin... do you not want to be with this one?"

"Boss never laughs, either," the kobold growled, eyes slitting. To his surprise, the imposter laughed again.

"No? So this one does not. But you believed this one to be your beloved, if even for an instant." The imposter continued to laugh, drawing closer. "You are trapped here, a victim of your own desires. Do you not feel ashamed? Frightened, even?"

"No," Deekin spat. "Because Boss always saves Deekin." Before the imposter could reply, the world vanished, sunny fields and all. In its stead was blackness and a splitting headache. Deekin groaned; the ground beneath him was cold and hard, and judging by the throbbing at the back of his head, he'd cracked his skull against it. This was the least of his cranial pains, however. He could _feel_ thousands of panicked screams ringing throughout his head, images of terror, pain and death pounding against his brain. Opening his eyes, he saw why.

The Elder Brain was on fire, ablaze with roaring flames. Valen was sprawled on the floor, looking as dazed as Deekin. Only Umbra stood, completely unharmed. Seeing the fate that had befallen her companions, she had set the Elder Brain afire, breaking its hold over them. But there would be no rejoicing just yet; flashes of light filled the room, several illithid appearing out of thin air with due thanks to teleportation spells, attracted by their leader's dying screams. They were bizarre, even by illithid standards, many more than four tentacles writhing on each aberration's bloated face - and from what Deekin had learned in his years of adventuring, probably more powerful.

Umbra knew better than to fight them. Reaching into her pack, she withdrew something twisted and radiant; the Relic of the Reaper, Deekin recognized. Ribbons of shadow spread out of Relic, twisting through the air and weaving around the trio. In a burst of darkness, the three vanished from Zorvak'Mur.

* * *

Lith My'athar was much as they had left it. Well, except for the overall lack of pedestrians. But the trio was too preoccupied with other matters to notice. 

After teleporting, Deekin and Valen had lain dazed on the ground for a few more moments. Valen was the first to fully recover from the mind attack, holding his head and getting to his knees.

"At the risk of sounding like one Xanos Messarmos," Umbra said wryly, "this one must say... 'I told you so.'" Valen was not amused, his gaze settling on Umbra darkly.

"Why weren't you affected?" he demanded. "No one could resist an Elder Brain's mental attack! Especially not at such close range!"

"You are bitter because you failed," Umbra dismissed. "Do not unleash your anger on this one."

"I want to know what you ARE!" Valen stated, getting to his feet and towering over Umbra. "Take off that hood! If you're an agent of the enemy, I want to know it now!"

"This one will do no such thing," Umbra answered steadfastly.

"I have to know if you're a threat to the Seer." Valen's hand moved toward Umbra. "If you don't take the hood off, I'll take it off for you..."

"STOPS IT!" Deekin snapped, jumping in front of Umbra protectively. "Boss saves your life! You shoulds be thankful!" Deekin growled. "If you lays one hand on her..." Valen's eyes met the kobold's, glaring back at him fiercely. With a sigh, the tiefling let his hand drop and looked away. No one said anything. When a voice finally pierced the silence, it was not one of the three's.

"Valen! Umbra! You have returned!" A well-armored drow came running over, a look of desperation on his face. "And only just in time."

"Osyyr? What's wrong?" Valen asked.

"The Seer has been asking for you... she'll explain," Osyyr told him, stepping back and gesturing for him to follow. "Quickly, I will take you to her." He looked at Umbra. "Miss Lumina, the Seer wants you as well."

"And Deekin?" Umbra prompted. Osyyr eyed the kobold, as though he'd just noticed Deekin's presence.

"He can come too," Osyyr decided. "Now hurry." He began racing toward a large building in the center of the city. The temple, Deekin remembered, as he and the others followed. Still, it was hard to concentrate on much of anything with the previous event still running through the kobold's head. The tiefling had THREATENED Umbra... how _dare_ he! Deekin fumed, casting an unsavory look in Valen's direction. He knew he was a mean goat man... he knew it.

Just as before, many drow were guarding the Seer when Osyyr and the others arrived. The Seer looked up from her meditation, giving Valen a weak smile before looking to Umbra.

"It is good you are here, Umbra Lumina," she greeted. "The army of the Valsharess is on the move. They are marching on Lith My'athar." Valen paled, his worst fears confirmed.

"We have to get you out of here!" he insisted, moving toward the Seer, who only shook her head.

"No, Valen. It is time for us to make our final stand. Our fate will be decided here. Eilistraee has shown me a vision... Umbra will lead our troops to victory over the Valsharess."

Valen's eyes settled on Umbra mistrustfully, but he nodded. The Seer looked to Umbra appraisingly.

"Eilistraee has told me of your deeds," she said. "You have proven yourself worthy of this honor, Umbra Lumina. Even House Maeviir will follow your orders in the coming battle."

"This one shall aid you as well as she is able, Seer," Umbra replied.

"I am glad to hear that," the Seer smiled. "We will make preparations all through the night. I am confident in your abilities, but Captain Imloth" - she nodded to a drow man at her side - "will test you in them, so you are ready. You may rest when you feel it is necessary. In the morning, the enemy will arrive and the battle will begin."

A flurry of preparations began past that, which Deekin could not begin to keep track of. Umbra was taken off to train, Valen stayed to protect the Seer against any unexpected assassins, and Deekin found himself aimlessly wandering Lith My'athar's mostly-empty streets - all citizens and refugees were either concentrated in small areas as they discussed battle plans, or locked away inside their houses. The Underdark was a dark, dank place at any hour, but Deekin couldn't help but be reminded of his time in Waterdeep.

_The curtain of night had fallen, black and starless; the moon was alone tonight. The darkness cloaked the city entirely, reminding Deekin of the complete blackness that composed the Shadow Plane. Remembering this, of course, made him remember Umbra. He could picture her in his mind--shrouded in darkness, wandering the plane aimlessly, cold and alone..._

Umbra was back, now. But he was still sad. Why? He sighed, gazing at the ground; he knew. It was because of his own jealousy. Valen was better at fighting, better at talking, and just plain better at being human. He was just the dark, dashing sort to win a heroine's heart, and Deekin hadn't been able to look at Umbra without remembering that. He'd felt insecure and insignificant... and now that he thought about that, it was ridiculous. Valen obviously didn't trust Umbra - there could never be anything between them. And Umbra would never abandon Deekin! Hells... she had given up her own freedom for him.

"How thick-headed you BE!" Deekin chastised himself, slapping his forehead and dragging the hand down his face in disgust. "You stupid, stupid, STUPID kobold! You be Boss's best friend... she say so herself! And YOU lets mean goat man gets between you, not Boss! Boss..." He loved Umbra. He'd known in Undrentide, he'd known it when she was gone, he'd known it when they reunited, he'd known it all the while he feared Valen would steal her from him. Never, in his entire life, had he loved anyone as much he loved Umbra. Could it be... she felt the same?

He should tell her how he felt. If he didn't tell her now, he might never tell her. Encouraged, Deekin began running toward of source of voices. Not too far away, just behind a large building ornamented with spider statues, he saw two drow clashing swords to fine-tune their skills for the upcoming battle. Under normal circumstances the kobold would have approached them cautiously, but determination emboldened his steps now.

"You knows where Umbra Lumina be?" he asked. The drow paused mid-swing. Fortunately, one of them spoke Common.

"She's training with Imloth in the south part of town," the drow replied, jerking her chin southerly.

"Thanks!" Deekin nodded, bolting off in that direction, the sounds of the practice duel resuming shortly after he had left. The kobold panted with exertion, running faster as he ran farther, a smile on his face. A tall cliff face rose up before him, marking the end of the town. The sound of things being sliced apart drew him to the left. Sure enough, there stood Umbra, sword out and a sea of demolished test dummies torn into shreds of cloth and piles of sawdust around her. A drow male shook his head slowly as he gazed at all the ruined equipment, though commending Umbra for her lethal abilities. The planar did not respond, immediately noticing Deekin's arrival. Sheathing her sword, she strode over to the kobold.

"You look in bright spirits, Deekin," she noted warmly. "This one is happy for that." Deekin smiled broadly and nodded, the smile wilting a little nervously as he remembered what he'd come to ask.

"Umm, Boss... we talks in private, maybe?" he asked.

"Of course," she answered. "Imloth, if you would not mind."

"We don't have long before the Valsharess's troops arrive," the drow frowned. "Make it quick."

Deekin led Umbra a while on, past the strange drow buildings, until Imloth and any others were out of earshot. The kobold breathed deeply, but was quiet.

"Do you require something, Deekin?" Umbra wondered at last. Deekin smiled at the sound of her voice.

"Yep, Deekin does..." He paused as he thought how to put this into words. Such a simple thing... how many ways _were_ there to say it? Best just say it straight. "Deekin loves you, Boss."

"This one loves you as well, Deekin," Umbra replied. "You are a fine friend."

"Umm... that not what Deekin means, Boss."

"What is your meaning, then?"

"Deekin... loves you. Like when bard... falls in love with great hero... and they lives happily ever after..." A silence as this sank in.

"You... love this one?"

"Yep."

"As when a husband... and a wife..."

"That kind... yep."

"You would... you would devote such an immortal love... to the likes of this one, Deekin?"

"Deekin would, Boss."

"You... are certain?"

"In all his life, Deekin never be surer." Silence. "Boss?"

"No." Umbra stepped back. "That cannot be. No... no, Deekin. You would not... you would not be happy. Not happy at all."

His heart sank with dread. "What... what you saying, Boss?"

"Forget this one," Umbra commanded. "This one should never have left the Shadows. When this adventure is done... forget this one. Find another like yourself. Please." She swept around, lurking back toward Imloth's training grounds swiftly. The shadows seemed to envelop her, and soon, she was out of sight.

"Boss..." The name escaped Deekin's throat weakly as he slumped to the ground. She had... rejected him. _Find another like yourself._ But of course. He was just a kobold... a lowly, scaly, lizard-like kobold. How could he have thought a hero so great could ever love one such as him? The kobold found tears trailing down his face as he got to his feet, bumping against his lute's strings and striking a brief discord. Somehow, it seemed fitting.


	15. Climax

(A/N: Finally, the new chapter is finished! This will be a short author's note - it's 4:50 in the morning as I type this. This story is one of my top priorities, and that's why it takes so long to write; I want to get it right. In other news, you'll notice I gave the Robe of Vecna some custom properties. Hey, my fanfic, I can warp what I want.

Disclaimer: And thus the author did bellow, "NEVERWINTER NIGHTS ISN'T MINE!")

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

The Robe was crushing her.

Not in the physical sense - one such as Umbra could not be crushed physically. Truly, the Robe of Vecna had no ill effects on her... but sometimes, the need to hide herself away was crushing to her spirit (something that had never happened until she met Deekin). And what had just happened made the feeling more crushing than ever.

How simply the kobold had stood there, scales bright green even in this dark. His warm brown eyes looked at her as seriously as they ever had when he spoke. "Deekin loves you, Boss."

Love? The shadow lich had told her of love between friends.

"This one loves you as well, Deekin. You are a fine friend." It was the truth. He was a fine friend... no, more than that. A wonderful friend. The only one who had ever held out hope for Umbra, that had stayed by her faithfully no matter what, that had never eyed her with the mistrust she deserved. The only one that had ever called her friend. She loved him... oh, how she did.

"Umm... that not what Deekin means, Boss."

"What is your meaning, then?" Deekin suddenly looked very uncomfortable, and Umbra suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"Deekin... loves you," he explained. "Like when bard... falls in love with great hero... and they lives happily ever after..."

"You... love this one?"

"Yep."

"As when a husband... and a wife..."

"That kind... yep."

The shadow lich had told her of this sort of love. He had told her it was eternal and binding; the shadow lich liked to exaggerate, but Umbra did not know that.

"You would... you would devote such an immortal love... to the likes of this one, Deekin?"

"Deekin would, Boss."

"You... are certain?"

"In all his life, Deekin never be surer."

Lovers were destined to be together forever, the shadow lich had said. True lovers would have no secrets.

No secrets.

"Boss?"

Umbra watched Deekin's kind face, looking hopeful as he waited for an answer. She loved him; as life loved light, as death coveted shadow. She wished she could tell him, she could not.

"No." Umbra stepped back. "That cannot be. No... no, Deekin. You would not... you would not be happy. Not happy at all."

"What... what you saying, Boss?" She could feel his heart break. She felt no better, herself.

"Forget this one. This one should never have left the Shadows. When this adventure is done... forget this one. Find another like yourself. Please." She did it to be kind... he could not see that, but she did. She left, unable to bear any more, but it was no use; the sadness followed her.

"This one is sorry, Deekin," she apologized quietly, though he could not hear. "This one loves you, but she cannot tell you. This one must hide." One such as her must be hidden away at all costs. Sometimes she resented the Robe's presence, stifling her... but, no. It was good the Robe was there. It would hurt him to see her...

She would do this last thing. She would help the rebels against the Valsharess, help save the world as she had done once before, and then she would leave Deekin, knowing he was safe. He would miss her, but he would move on... and he would be happy. There was no greater gift she could give him than that.

* * *

Umbra did not return to train with Imloth. She vanished from sight for the next five hours, returning only just as the rebels were getting themselves ready. 

Catapults and ballistas were lugged into position. The rebels took their places; archers atop the gates' fortress walls, crossbows loaded and ready to fire; melee fighters lined up strategically, weapons clenched in their fists. This was more a rehearsal than anything, as there was still much to be done. The Seer (who was still in the Temple at the city's center, away from the battle, guarded by a dozen soldiers) had foreseen that the Valsharess would attack from the gates, but they would have arranged so, even if she had not - there was simply no place else to attack from. But for the gates, Lith My'athar was closed in by thousand-foot high, nigh-insurmountable cliffs. The gates were protected by every reinforcement available, spell, barricade or otherwise; but that would not keep the Valsharess out, and not a one of them was foolish enough to hope otherwise.

Suddenly, something banged against the gates. Something strong... even with all its fortifications, the sturdy black gates shook on their hinges with each bang. The rebels tensed twofold. An ominous silence hung over Lith My'athar, broken only by the banging. Quietly, the rebels began muttering amongst themselves.

"Here already?"

"The Seer said we had another half-hour...

"What'll we do?"

"Fight, that's what!"

A voice from outside the gate broke in, "You're not dead in there already, are you? Bloody inconsiderate of you if you are, seeing as how we came all this way to help." The voice was sarcastic, metallic, and somewhat familiar.

"Enserric..." Umbra realized, then commanded the troops. "He is a friend. Let him through." A moment's hesitation, but a nod from Imloth and several drow set about disarming, disenchanting, unbolting and unlocking the gates. No sooner had the gates been wedged open, than an unnecessarily bulky, extravagant golem barged through.

"Ah, so you're not dead," the golem said in a voice that could only be Enserric's. The Maker had made good on his promise to make the sword a metal body. "Good, good. We'll have reason to stay and brain some dark elves, then." Promptly, another golem appeared from beyond the gates. Then another, and another, and another, and another... Finally, no less than 70 golems entered Lith My'athar.

Imloth looked at them with concern. "What are - "

"Who are!" Enserric corrected.

"Right. Who, are they, Umbra?" Imloth asked.

"Our allies," Umbra replied. "Unless one is trying to sneak past a drow camp."

"You're not going to let that go, are you?" Enserric said dryly. He shrugged his enormous metal shoulders with a scraping sound that sent Valen's teeth grating. "Regardless, the Maker sent us to help out and make sure you lot aren't squashed into piles of pulpy pink matter. Now that I'm no longer confined to that blasted _blade,_ I think you'll find I'm more than worth my weight in the _valuable_ metals I'm constructed of." He was irredeemably proud of this, flexing his metal joints confidently. "As are my troops, of course." Said "troops" stood stiffly in place, but certainly looked formidable. The drow had finished resealing the gates, albeit hurriedly and somewhat poorly. Imloth noted this with displeasure, and eyed Enserric much the same way.

"I'd hope so," Imloth answered.

"Oh, you'll see," Enserric said smugly.

There were more preparations to deal with, especially with these newcomers needing battle positions to accustom them. Despite the flurry of motion around her, Umbra was still. Her gaze was on Deekin, who had been tripped over by no less than three busy drow since Enserric's arrival. He stepped out of the way when he could, but his movements were half-hearted, eyes downturned. He was heartbroken, and the more Umbra watched the more she felt the same. It wasn't long before she was urged to help out with last-minute preparations, but she lingered and watched Deekin sadly before obliging.

Deekin watched Umbra go, heaved a sigh and forced himself to look away. He brought the notebook out of his pack, opened it and read over the last sentence he'd written.

"The intrepid heroes and one mean goat man wandered into the great (here a few failed attempts to spell "illithid" had been crossed out) mind flayer palace, when one of the tentacle faces came running up to them. What news did it bring? the kobold sidekick wondered as it started talking."

He had a lot of ground to cover, but this wasn't the time or place to worry about writing, with the Valsharess liable to attack very soon. And, even if it had been, he couldn't bring himself to write now. It was the Boss's epic tale, and he couldn't look at it without feeling the rejection harshly. Granted, he felt it harshly anyway. Deekin closed the book back up and returned it to his pack. He found his eyes drawn up to the Underdark ceiling, as he remembered back.

_"You looks at the stars, Boss?"_

_"No." Umbra's tone was still blank, but strangely faded. "This one gazes at their shadows."_

_"Their shadows?" Deekin repeated quizzically, scrutinizing the sky. "Deekin not sees any star shadows."_

_"They are not meant to be seen," she returned. "The shadows are concealed...but they are there."_

No stars here; only stalactites. Deekin sighed again and looked at the ground, doing his best to ignore being tripped over for the fourth time.

Time flies when you're racing to get everything ready so you don't die. The gates - no, the entire _fortress_ - rattled suddenly, sending many tumbling.

"I... don't suppose those are friends of yours?" one drow asked Enserric hopefully.

"None the Maker told me about," Enserric replied. "And he would have told me."

"I was afraid of that." It was a good thing most of the rebels had been smart enough to flee the fortress by then, because at that moment it exploded, the only fortunate aspect of this being that the resulting debris was so small it caused no lethal accidents. But that was not a problem for the Valsharess's army, standing on the fortress's ruins with their weapons spread out and their eyes gleaming. It only meant all the more for them to kill.

Hundreds of dark elves and gray dwarves charged... right into a battalion of sturdy metal golems, who were more than happy to smash their fleshy bodies into pulp at Enserric's invigorated commands.

"YES! MASH THEM TOGETHER, HAH! Go for the legs... watch him CRAWL! Step on that one! And that one! Yes, that drow with a missing ear, yank off the one she'd got left, and most of her face - like that, good! Hang the dwarves by their BEARDS!" Enserric bellowed, himself never hesitating to slay and mutilate where he could. No longer bound to a gladiate form, Enserric hadn't enjoyed himself this much in decades. His bloodthirsty orders earned some nervous looks from some of the more do-gooding rebels, but the golems were more than proving their worth in this battle, and that was all that matter. Some drow and duergar managed to wind their ways around the golems and engage the actual rebels in fights, but with the golems acting as shields, the rebels were more than ready for these attacks and quickly dispatched the enemies that made it through.

This went on for about ten minutes before the Valsharess's army began to grow concerned. Likely, they'd been concerned before that, but it took the spellcasters a while to summon a rebuttal. Or rather, two rebuttals.

Glowing red lines spread across the ground. Those that noticed the marks feared the worst and jumped out of the way, carefully watching the lines grow out, branching off like veins and twirling in intricate patterns. The lines formed two large, separate circular patterns. The rock ground beneath the circles cracked, and out of the earth burst two of the foulest fiends any mortal would ever set eyes upon: a pit fiend and a balor. Red hides sizzling and cracking with inner heat, each immense planar grabbed two golems at a time and began flinging them through the air like toys.

"Oh, bloody HELL!" Enserric cursed as his troops were scattered in a most indignant fashion. The pit fiend halted mid-swing, an automaton still struggling in its grasp. Snorting smoke, the devil let the golem drop and turned to face the balor, emitting an otherwordly growl. The balor retorted with a strange gesture that was most likely offensive, as the pit fiend screeched furiously and leapt at the balor's throat, slamming it into the ground and squashing several drow in the process, rebels and Valsharess's troops alike. The Valsharess's spellcasters had made the mistake of summoning a demon and a devil at the same time, and the fiends were simply unable to overcome their intense hatred for each other long enough to decimate the rebels. The balor and the pit fiend howled insults and tore at each other's innards in spurts of crimson blood, while the golems righted themselves and resumed defending the rebels. Valen fought the urge to attack the pit fiend, knowing full well that doing so would give the balor an edge, and instead bashed in a duergar's head.

The balor came out victorious without Valen's help, but its victory was short-lived - it suffered grievous wounds from its spat with the pit fiend, and five golems quickly closed in and finished it off (much to Enserric's loudly voiced delight). However, the fiends had served their purpose in disabling the golems long enough for the Valsharess's melee fighters to close in and fight the rebels head-to-head. There were many more of the Valsharess's soldiers than there were of the rebels, but in their defense, much of the Valsharess's army had been worn down by the golems whereas the rebels were in prime condition for their attack. With the fortress gone they had lost much of their advantage, but the rebel archers scaled cliff walls and tall stalagmites, and found suitable vantage points to rain their bolts and arrows from. Standing behind the rebel troops, closer to Lith My'athar, the rebel spellcasters wove all sorts of destructive magics. Deekin felt a little out of place, still struggling not to trip anyone taller than himself, but concentrated on casting spells nonetheless. It helped take his mind off Umbra, anyway... though he supposed getting out of this alive should be his top priority at the moment.

It was Umbra's - if any spells or weapons got too close to the kobold, the cowled one was quick to deflect them with spells of her own, though Deekin failed to notice. Umbra was a fantastic killing machine, taking down tens of drow at a time with her devastating fire spells and lopping off vital parts with her swords (Imloth had lent her a second sword for the battle). More than a few soldiers had stuck a sword through Umbra with no effect, only to get stuck through with one of her swords in return. The rebels were appreciative; the Seer had been right about this one.

The battle raged on for what seemed forever. It was the sort of battle Deekin would have read with wide eyes during his days in the Silver Marches and dreamed of participating in, though now that he actually was participating in one he was much less enthusiastic. This was partly because of thoughts of Umbra (not so much of last night's rejection now, but of frantic hopes that the Boss was alright), and partly because such battles were great to read about but grueling and miserable to be a part of. Plus, with gore splashing all around him (making him all the more concerned for Umbra's safety), Deekin couldn't possibly keep track of things to write about later.

A bird's-eye view would have shown a constantly writhing mass of humanoids chopping each other to pieces, the rebels dressed in bright purple-and-blue and the Valsharess's forces in red-and-black. It would also have shown that the Valsharess's forces were not fighting in random formation; unbeknownst to them, the rebels were being gradually pressed into a circular group. Suddenly, the Valsharess's troops began to retreat.

"Ha-HA! Bloody cowards! We showed them!" Enserric cheered, raising an arm in triumph. The other golems raised their arms in turn, automatically rather than victoriously. Imloth wasn't so pleased.

"Something's wrong," he murmured. "They're still doing well enough to keep fighting, and they haven't even brought in the beholders, the mind flayers, the undead or any of their other allies yet! Why are they retreating?" His question was soon answered by a scream.

Without warning, the rock ground had sprung upward in a long, curving spike. One unlucky drow had been too close when this happened, and the newly sprouted spike ran her through. She didn't die instantly, instead screaming and gurgling as the spike lodged in her stomach grew further upward, taking her with it. The rebels watched this gruesome sight for one stunned moment, then jumped back as a second spike formed and grew upward next to the first. Fleeing from these spikes, the rebels were stopped by five more spikes shooting out of the ground in front of them. The spikes spread, shooting up wherever the rebels tried to escape to. The spikes were impossibly sharp; if a golem moved out of a spike's way too slowly, the spike pierced through even its sturdy metal frame. Surrounded, the rebels were backed into a circle, the spikes multiplying all around them, their sharp points curving inward toward each other as they grew. When at last they stopped sprouting, the spikes had formed a gigantic cage around the rebels. Those few rebels that hadn't been caught in the makeshift cage were swiftly sought out and "dispatched" by the Valsharess's army.

Besides the low screeching noise of the spikes growing against each other at the top, the only sound was the rebels breathing harshly as they realized they were trapped. Suddenly, Valen ran at the spikes, smacking his flail into them full-force, to no effect. He tried again and again, but the spikes didn't even rattle.

"Stand back, you'll only hurt yourself," Enserric told Valen confidantly, nudging the tiefling aside. Valen simmered as Enserric pulled one oversized adamantium hand into a fist and slammed it into the spike. There was a resoundant ringing sound at the impact, and a pause; then Enserric's hand crumbled. The golem was quiet, staring at the stump where his fist had been. "Bloody Maker's been skimping on materials again..." he muttered.

Seeing that the lead golem had failed to bash their way out, the rebels rushed to free themselves. Spellcasters tried a variety of acidic and other dissolvent magics, but they did no better. Some rebels tried to squeeze their way out, but no use - the spikes were so closely grown that not even Deekin could squirm through. Well, perhaps he could, but if he made it too far past the spikes, he was suddenly jolted by a bolt of electricity that send him stumbling backward. Realizing the direness of their situation, some rebels (namely, Enserric) tried making death threats to the Valsharess's troops in hopes of frightening them into freeing them. Needless to say, the rebels were really in no position to be making such threats, and none of the Valsharess's soldiers even blinked (unless their eyes were feeling particularly dry). Some fed-up spellcasters tried blasting the Valsharess's troops apart with a few choice spells, but the same barrier that had shocked Deekin caught, and _reflected_ their spells. A few accidental casualties on the rebels' part later, the spellcasters were threatened bodily harm by their teammates if they didn't stop.

Preoccupied, few rebels noticed what happened next, but those few that did quickly alerted the others. The Valsharess's army was strangely still and silent, when the soldiers began to move. The effect was rippling as the army parted, clearing a path in the sea of soldiers. The effect started farther off, gradually coming closer. Finally, the soldiers closest to the rebels' cage parted... and the rebels saw why.

The devil was the first they saw. His prominent horns heightening his already large, intimidating visage, the fiend walked with a swagger, due in part to his goatlike legs, but also to his pride. He had a lot of pride... and his current state hurt that pride a lot. Strands of magic twined around his body, sparkling and crackling vividly. Such insignificant little threads didn't look like much, but kept the devil bound. Deekin recognized the devil from his dream in Waterdeep, from what the Seer had said, and from the descriptions he had read in so many a tale. This was Mephistopheles, Archduke of the Eighth Hell... and striding ahead with more arrogance than Mephistopheles himself was his captor; the dread drow queen, the Valsharess.

The Valsharess's movements were slow and sultry, a confident smirk on her face as she gradually sidled her way toward the rebels, finally stopping no more than twelve inches from their prison. They couldn't get to her; she had no reason to keep a safe distance. The looks of hatred and fury the Valsharess was met with only broadened her smile.

"Vendui," she said. She paused, red eyes shimmering delightedly as she took in the sight before her, and began speaking in Common. "I see you've become ensnared in my little trap." Another pause. Many of the rebels fostered great loathing for the woman before them, but knew better than to show it now. The Valsharess shifted her weight to the other foot and cocked her head. "Oh? What's wrong? Are you feeling... ashamed?" The Valsharess cackled and strode to another side of the cage, peering in at the rebels which avoided her gaze. "You didn't honestly think you could defeat me, did you? _I,_ who command an Archdevil, and more soldiers than you could count in your soon-to-be-shortened lifetimes?" The Valsharess cackled again and shook her head at their folly, grinning. "You are fools. I have crushed many rebels before you, and I will crush many after."

Unable to take this ridicule anymore, one of the rebels - a drow male - leapt to his feet and stormed as close to the Valsharess as the cage would allow. He began screaming at her in Drowish; Deekin didn't know what he was saying exactly, but had a pretty good idea. The Valsharess was sullen.

"Mephistopheles," she snarled, and issued a command in Drowish. Mephistopheles nodded resentfully; instantly, the drow male's eyes bulged as he clutched his stomach and keeled over, face contorting with silenced pain for one long minute before he slipped into death. The rebels gaped at the corpse. The Valsharess recovered her smirk, flexing her fingers comfortably around a whip in her hand.

"Vel'uss zhah huthin?" she sneered. "Who is next?" She tossed back her head and laughed. If he hadn't been so terrified, Deekin would have made a note on the cliched cheesiness of it all.

Standing a short distance from the others, Umbra watched all of this quietly. She watched as the drow male dropped to the ground and writhed in agony until his death; she watched Deekin's expression as he watched. And she listened as the Valsharess gloated, then had her devil pet kill off another drow in the same fashion. Umbra started. If this kept up - as she suspected it would - it wouldn't be long before the drow targeted Deekin...

"This one must do something!" Umbra whispered to herself. But what? The electric barrier protected against spells and physical objects... unless...

The rebels' shadows cast through the invisible barrier onto the ground outside the cage, unaffected.

No! Surely, there was another way! At the very least, her servants could do it!

No... her servants would not be strong enough. The Valsharess was powerful...

There was no alternative, or at least, no time to think of one. Morosely decisive, Umbra swept through the rebel crowd toward Deekin. The kobold looked up immediately at her approah. Before he could speak, she knelt down and swept him into a hug.

"Forgive this one, Deekin," Umbra pleaded. "For this one did not wish to harm you. Watch, now, and you will know why this one had no choice but to refuse you. Forgive this one... for this one loves you, Deekin. More than you will ever know." Umbra released from the hug and stood.

Deekin couldn't believe what he was hearing. Homicidal drow woman aside, this was too good to be true. "Boss!" he cried gleefully. "You really mea - " He stopped abruptly. Under Umbra's hood, two violet lights of eyes blazed. "Umm... Boss? You be feelings okay?" Umbra did not respond. Instead, she twisted at an unnatural angle and lifted into the air, letting her lead shoes drop with noisy clunks. "...Boss?" The strange eyes vanished; a dark energy flowed out of the robe's collar and arms, leaving it to drift empty to the ground. "BOSS!" Clinging to the ground, the darkness wasted no time in creeping out of the cage; the barrier guarded againt the arcane and the physical, but not shadows. Twirling into a column, the darkness reared up before the Valsharess, who noticed too late. But, did she ever notice.

The drow queen's eyes widened in fear as the darkness fell upon her. "MEPHISTOPHE - " She never finished, cutting herself off with a blood-curdling scream. The scream wore on, the screamer completely covered in the darkness. When at last the scream died off, the darkness pulled away. Black metal armor clanked together and clattered to the ground, all that remained of the Valsharess.

All eyes watched as the darkness materialized in a humanoid shape. Two legs and two spindly arms, extending into fingers, long and clawlike. A featureless head-shape formed, two violet lights for eyes blinking into existence on it. They looked sad. And as Deekin watched, he realized.

Umbra had never been a Shadovar at all.

She was a shadow.

It was a shame everyone's eyes were on what Umbra had revealed herself - itself? - to be. They might have noticed the devil, grinning triumphantly as his bonds were severed with the Valsharess's connections to this plane. Not that it would have done them much good if they had. Only Umbra noticed, but as she moved to strike, a globe of light sprang up around her. Realizing that a freed devil didn't bode well for them, either, the Valsharess's forces quickly began attacking Mephistopheles - and just as quickly began dropping dead. Those that weren't anxious to die bolted. Chuckling to himself, Mephistopheles levitated the globe which held Umbra, and watched with some amusement as the shadow tried and failed to break free of her luminous prison. Passing through such brilliant walls would mean certain destruction for a creature of darkness; realizing this, the shadow gave up.

"Boss... no," Deekin murmured, still incredulous that this was happening. He attempted to charge through a gap in the cage bars, but even with the Valsharess dead, the barrier still worked. Deekin was jolted back; dazedly standing back up, he could only watch helplessly.

"A shadow? Disguising itself as a human?" Mephistopheles mused, passing the light globe from hand to hand and inspecting the poor undead within. "A curious thing, aren't you? And a hero, no less! Fascinating... I'll have to study you later. For now, to Cania with you." Mephistopheles made a motion with his free hand, and the globe vanished.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Deekin shrieked, falling to his knees. Fortunately, Mephistopheles didn't seem to notice the kobold in particular as he strode over to the rebels' cage and picked up gloating where the Valsharess had left off. Valen was enraged, of course, but Deekin couldn't have cared less. The kobold picked himself up long enough to walk over to Umbra's robe, then plopped down. Ignoring the braggart baatezu towering over the cage, Deekin picked up the robe, running a cautious thumb over the gray fabric. There were powerful illusory magics in that garment, to give a shadow substance, but Deekin was not interested in them, but in his only reminder of Umbra. Hugging the robe close to him, Deekin was vaguely aware of something falling out of Umbra's pack. He reached to pick it up - and stopped as he saw what it was.

It was a bouquet of false flowers, made from coarse cloth and scented with cheap cologne. This was the bouquet Deekin had given Umbra in the Anauroch, all those years ago... and she still had it. She had maintained it, no less - so long in an adventurer's pack, and it was only slightly squashed.

"Boss," Deekin whispered, picking the bouquet up carefully. "You remembers..."

_"Forgive this one... for this one loves you, Deekin. More than you will ever know." _

She DID love him. But she hadn't said so, because of what she was. Undead... how could she be undead? A _shadow,_ no less! But it didn't really matter, did it? After all, Deekin was a kobold, and she had accepted him. Deekin didn't care what Umbra was; he loved her anyway. He found tears trickling down his face, vision blurring as he stared at the bouquet.

Hidden in the bouquet, something twinkled out at him. Wiping away some of the tears, Deekin plucked it out. It was small, twisted and radiant... the Relic of the Reaper, which Umbra had used to return to him.

"Takes Deekin to Umbra," Deekin pleaded. Loosing teleportational shadow strands, the Relic obeyed. Deekin, the bouquet and the Relic vanished from Toril - just as Mephistopheles started to get violent.


	16. Ever After

(A/N: Sorry for the long pause between writing, but here it is, the final chapter. The reason it took so long, other than my Internet being down, was that I had an entirely different ending in mind, but by the time I got to the end, I just couldn't get it to fit. I gave up on Dependence for a while, when the idea for this ending occured to me. I like it a lot better; I hope you do, too. Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed in the year and longer that I've been working on this story, I couldn't have done it without you! Especially you, WitchWolf.

Disclaimer: If you see it here, odds are, I don't own it.)

* * *

**Chapter the Last**

It was cold. So, so, so very _cold. _Colder than the Silver Marches had ever been. Deekin's fingers were almost entirely numb as they gripped the quill and he wrote. But he _had_ to write, because the epic tale had to be finished, and he was so sadly behind. Still, most of the events of the past hour were fresh in his mind (and he suspected they always would be) and he recorded them without much trouble, numb fingers aside. Tucking the quill into the book, Deekin shivered violently, returned the book to his pack and stood up, hugging himself in a feeble attempt gather warmth. This was, without a doubt, Cania - the Eighth hell, frozen prison of dead traitors. But Deekin had not betrayed anyone, it was matter of loyally following his Boss that he was even here; and the mortal pains of his body frequently reminded him he was not dead.

Frigid white stretched out in every direction. There were no snowflakes raining down, no sleet; the skies, pale as the snow itself, were clear. A dark thing like Umbra should have stood out immediately. Deekin forced himself to look for a shadow monster, but kept forgetting and found himself searching for a cowled figure nonetheless. There was too much to take in, too much had happened, and while it made the epic tale exciting, it made Deekin feel like lying down in the snow. He loved Umbra deeply, and yet it occured to him that he knew so very little about her. He had not known she was an undead wraith of darkness, for example... what else didn't he know? Trudging through the snow grimly, Deekin could only wonder. Not to mention, what had likely become of Lith My'athar, the Underdark, and maybe even the rest of Toril by now, with Mephistopheles loose on it. Some epic tale, some happy ending. If he could find Umbra, though, she could make everything right... shadow or no, she was the hero. And even if his hopes were useless, if she couldn't do anything, he had to find her anyway. He'd gone without her once before, and he knew he could never live like that again.

"Boss?" The kobold's voice was weak, but he called anyway. "Boss? Where you be? Boss?" He rubbed his hands nervously, trying and failing to bring feeling back into them. "Boss?" All five senses were shutting down, and Deekin's grip on the waking world began to wane. His tail waved to keep him balanced as his legs began to buckle. "Boss..." The world was pale and fuzzy, and his eyelids began to droop over it. He could see, however, that he was not alone.

Tens of mostly invisible humanoid shapes, rendered visible only by the icicles and frost clinging to their incorporeal forms, surrounded him. These were the inhabitants of Cania, bodiless souls, the traitorous damned. Deekin's eyes shot open long enough for him to get a better look at their faces - empty sockets, empty mouths, gaping open and twisted in horrifying moans of defeat as their icy claws reached for him, hungry for his warmth. Deekin shuddered with cold and fear as his eyelids gave up and shut closed, bracing himself for a terrifying death at last.

But something prompted him to open his eyes again, long enough to see something he was finally glad to. Amongst all this white there was welcoming blackness, a fleeting form of dark and shadows which chased the hungry spirits away. "Boss," he smiled knowingly. "You comes back for Deekin."

_"Always, Deekin,"_ Umbra assured him. Then the white left his sight, and wondrous blackness took him over completely.

* * *

Deekin awoke to delicious warmth. Creaking open his eyes, he saw brilliant orange flames leaping and crackling before him. Pulling himself into a sitting position, Deekin yawned and looked around. There was, as stated, a beautiful roaring fire situated before him, bright and hot; but beyond that on all sides was a black void. It took Deekin a few seconds of taking this in to realize where he was: the Shadow Plane. 

"Boss?" he questioned, noticing she was nowhere to be found. In response, a pair of violet eyes flickered open, a safe distance from the fire; Deekin relaxed visibly. "There you be. Thanks for saving Deekin... again, Boss." He scooted farther from the fire and closer to Umbra's eyes, straining his eyes to make out her form, but her own darkness was blended smoothly with the Plane's.

_"This one only wishes she could have rescued you sooner,"_ the shadow mourned apologetically. _"Are you feeling well?"_

"Very well," Deekin nodded, his own eyes set on hers. "Is you okays, Boss?"

_"This one has no complaints."_

"That good... umm..." Deekin paused, looking around some more. "How we gets here? Relic be all used up, Deekin thinks. Deekin sorry abouts that," he added apologetically.

_"As a shadow, of course, this one can always return to the Plane of Shadow. As for how this one got you here... The shadow lich, this one's former master, had many artifacts, more than a few of a teleporting nature. The Relic of the Reaper was but one of them,"_ Umbra explained. _"This one... lied to you, Deekin. No mysterious shadow being gave her the Relic. The Relic came from the lich's estate, which this one took ownership of after his destruction."_

"You lies? Why you lies?" Deekin was astonished. The reason was astoundingly simple:

_"This one thought such a tale would make your story more exciting. Owning an estate hardly seemed epic."_

"Oh..." Suddenly, a horrible thought occured to Deekin. "Boss! What about Toril? Mephistopheles still be loose and - "

_"You need not worry, Deekin. The gods care for Toril."_

"Huh? Deekin not knows what you means." The shadow was hesitant. The eyes faded out of sight. "Boss!" Deekin cried, panicking; he didn't want to be left alone in this place. Fortunately, Umbra was quick to return.

_"Fear not, no strange shadows may lurk this one's estate,"_ she told him. Deekin could vaguely make out Umbra's sharp, twisted shadow form coming toward him, a milky crystal held in one clawlike hand. _"Here, take this."_ Umbra gave the crystal to him. _"Now... look inside."_ Deekin did so, and at first saw nothing. Then, the crystal's faceted surface gleamed, and a picture came into view; instantly intrigued, Deekin leaned in to get a better look.

_"This crystal, yet another of the shadow lich's artifacts, relates a view of Mephistopheles's actions on Toril,"_ Umbra explained. Sure enough, Deekin could see the devil himself, red and brawny and howling in triumph as he stood on a building in Waterdeep, newly sprouted wings great and arched. An army of the Valsharess's soldiers, killed and raised again as undead, spread out around him. Waterdeep civilizations fled in terror, but while some destruction had been done, Mephistopheles was not lent to the chaotic nature of demons; he was more content with bragging.

"Who dares to face me now?" Mephistopheles crowed. And suddenly, a voice that made Deekin cringe rose to the challenge and declared: "I dare!"

"No..." Deekin whispered. On the crystal's surface, a human in shiny silver armor with even shinier golden hair looked up at the devil with a smirk more egotistical than the devil's own.

"Because I am Nars Sater, and I'm here to stop you, fiendish fiend!" Nars grinned, posing dramatically with his greatsword pointed approximately at the huge devil's chest.

"Fiendish fiend... fiendish FIEND! That... so... bad!" Deekin groaned, his bardic side shuddering at the lameness of it all.

"Oh, really? And how do you propose to do THAT, mortal?" Mephistopheles chuckled, stepping down off the building and onto one of his own undead drow soldiers.

"With... THIS PENGUIN!" Nars whipped out a penguin. The penguin looked as confused as you do. Deekin decided to clutch his head and mutter to himself at this point, as a dramatic battle ensued in which Nars somehow banished Mephistopheles to Cania with said penguin.

"No... no... no..." Deekin moaned, the crystal displaying Nars and the penguin surrounded by adoring civilians. Deciding he'd seen enough, Umbra took the crystal and disappeared with it, returning a few moments to comfort the kobold as best she could.

_"You see, Deekin,"_ she explained, _"The gods have their plans, and Nars was meant to defeat Mephistopheles all along, not this one."_

"But... the PENGUIN..."

_"The gods gets bored sometimes,"_ Umbra said helplessly with a shrug of her spiked shoulders. Softly, she added, _"You were also meant to travel with Nars. This one... could not bear to see that. That is why she returned."_ Deekin looked at her, eyes wide.

"You able to return all along," he realized, growing hurt. "Why you not returns, Boss? _Why?_" Umbra looked equally pained.

_"This one wanted you to have a good life,"_ she told him. _"Not spend it worshipping something long dead."_ Before Deekin could speak, she went on. _"This one is very old, Deekin. This is how she knows the things she does. But even old things can be selfish, even old things can be childish. That is why this one abandoned the shadow lich; that is why this one played the hero and traveled with you; that is why this one... grew to love you."_ Deekin smiled.

"You really loves Deekin, Boss?"

_"Yes."_ Her eyes smiled solemnly. _"A wise thing understands that sometimes, we must let go of our loved ones in their best interest."_

"But it not in Deekin's best interest!" Deekin cried. "Deekin MISERABLE without you! Every year you not there, Deekin feel like he dying inside! Deekin looks at epic tale and reads it again and again, and always hopes you come back, but you never does! Deekin loves you so much Boss, you not sees that? Deekin NEVER be happy without you!"

_"You say that,"_ the shadow said sadly. _"And you even accept this one for what she is, for which this one thanks you. But this one cannot return your love as you would want her to, Deekin."_ Umbra's hand reached out to him, long and clawed, caressing his head as she had done many times. Without the robe's magic to cloak the shadow, however, the effect was dire; Deekin could feel his warmth and life being drained out where she touched him, could feel that part of his head growing colder than Cania itself. Umbra quickly withdrew, while Deekin massaged his head until it grew warm again, though not as warm as before.

_"That is the chill of undeath,"_ Umbra said sadly. _"Do you see? This one cannot give you the warmth and light you give her. This one can only take it... that is why she must let you go."_ Deekin laughed, to her surprise.

"But don't you sees?" he cried, stepping closer to her across the shadows. "You DOES give Deekin warmth and light, in a different way. You saves Deekin again and again, you takes him away from bad places and makes him happy and takes him on adventure he always wants to goes on. Even epic tales Deekin writes, they not really abouts snake ladies and desert and crystals and caves and mind flayers and devils and drows... they about you, Boss. Everything Deekin loves is abouts yous. Deekin loves you, no matter what." And finding the darkness which comprised Umbra's being, his snout found the place beneath the two violet eye-lights where a mouth would have been and kissed her as best he knew how. It was cold, unbelievably cold; but at the same time, he was warmed. Umbra must have been, too, for he could sense the kiss being returned. When they parted, her eyes looked as happy and content as he had ever seen them.

_"...thank-you,"_ she whispered. _"This one... is sorry your epic tale did not get a proper ending."_ Deekin grinned.

"It not over yet, Umbra!" he said, calling her by her name. "But whatever ending it has, just so long as you be there, it be best ending there ever is!"

* * *

This was one epic tale that had no climactic good-against-evil ending. For this, no publisher would take it, but that was fine by Deekin; because in the years to come, he wrote many epic tales that not only were published, but were some of the most popular books in all Faerun. He went on the most exciting adventures, with some of the most renowned adventurers in all the land. He left a legacy that inspired many kobolds to leave their caves and venture out into the human world, friendly and unafraid. And he was never alone - wherever he went, his shadow was right there with him. Umbra, that is. 

At the end of his epic adventuring career, Deekin returned to the cave in the Nether Mountains. The other kobolds greeted him as a hero, which he was; even Tymofarrar bowed before him in respect for his many accomplishments. He was made chief of the kobold clan, and Umbra ruled alongside him. Together, they formed a pact with the humanoids in the neighboring towns of Blumberg (which had been rebuilt) and Hilltop, and in time the kobolds got along with the humanoids as well as they got along with each other (it's better than nothing). Drogan and the other students (who had since graduated, but visited from time to time) weren't too surprised when they learned of Umbra's true identity. Xanos reluctantly noted his respect for the shadow's achievements, Dorna congratulated her, and Mischa apologized for those many times she'd tried to banish Umbra to another realm, while Drogan announced that he couldn't have been prouder of his former pupil. All of these, Umbra was glad to hear.

Because Deekin was never unfaithful to his undead love, he never bred; but instead took in abandoned children, a few of which weren't even kobolds, and raised them with Umbra. Years after Deekin's death, though greatly mournful of his passing, Umbra protected the kobolds of the Nether Mountains as Deekin would have wanted. One day, however, she vanished; to wherever Deekin's soul went, she followed, it is hoped.

Deekin and Umbra's children had children, who had children; and it is one of they who finishes this story now, with hopes that you who have read it enjoyed it and perhaps, were even inspired by it. After all, if a shadow and kobold can live happily ever after, who's to say you can't?

**The End.**


End file.
